


Higher

by Mistykins06



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 51,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1726157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistykins06/pseuds/Mistykins06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being shot and put on 'desk work' by Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes is getting desperate to find a mystery to solve. Even if that case is why is the Pathologist is suddenly wearing high heels to work in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Higher

Typical Tuesday post bullet wound. Day 54 of bed rest, post second life saving surgery. Raining. Bored.

Sherlock made his way to St Bart's and in to visit his favorite laboratory. The recovery from two massive life saving surgeries was incredibly debilitating physically and consequently crippling mentally.

While Sherlock was on this so called bed rest he was being made to refuse cases and had been threatened to take an internship at St Bart's or face Rehab yet again. Naturally he choose the former. And now found himself with a temporary actual passed through the door to the lab and spotted Molly working at a microscope.

"Morning, Sherlock." She murmured as she continued on with her work. He went round to her work station and set her creamy, overly artificially sweetened coffee next to her. She murmured her thanks and lifted her attention to the cup, taking a tentative sip. She flashed him a brilliant, appreciative smile then went back to her work.

Morning coffee had become a routine and his first duty on his Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursdays his so called visits in the lab. Sherlock stopped at the cafe and picked up his... pathologist?Colleague? Superior? Savior?...Friend? What does one define someone who has saved your life on multiple occasions, yet requires you to fetch her coffee?

Although he really could not complain. The morning treat was also helping him earn her forgiveness for his relapse and numerous past transgressions. It wasn't enough, but it was a start at earning her trust again. Slow as it was going.

Sherlock took off the coat and slipped on his lab coat, complete with ridiculous name tag. It labeled him as a Consulting Lab Technician Assistant to Doctor M. Hooper. Once again, the only one in the world. Compliments of Molly of course. Se and Mycroft had wheeled and dealed this arrangement to keep his sanity. and in comparison to stint of rehab it was bearable. But he also admitted a truth only to himself. He took this internship and the conditions that came with it because he owed Molly Hooper his life. Again.

As his high powered microscope came alive he collected his materials and settled in. For a time he got lost in the familiar sounds and actions of lab work. Then the clacking started.

Clack,clack,clack followed by the sounds of Molly stumbling into a stool as she passed it. That was followed by a low curse and more inconsistent clacking. Sherlock looked up and studied Molly the source of the ruckus. The petite pathologist was dressed quite normally, well normal for her in a moderately appropriate blouse, brightly colored cardigan, black trouser pants...and pair of black high heels?

Molly could feel his eyes on her and turned to him. " Oh, sorry! I'll bet that's terribly distracting. Let me just go and change them back." Off she went with a slow procession of clack's. Sherlock saw that she was trying to hold her head high and walk normally. She was failing.

When Molly returned from the lockers dressed in her far more sensible hospital shoes she slipped right back to what she was doing. Sherlock attempted the same. However, he was having a difficult time getting the need for high heels in the lab off his mind.

Sherlock tried to focus on the slides of tissue samples before him. He made it full 20 minutes ( damn his boredom) before allowing his mind to ponder what Molly Hooper had been doing in such ridiculous shoes in the lab of St Barts at ten on a Tuesday. If she had been dressed to give a presentation or make a court appearance there would have been no thought of it at all, but the shoes in and of themselves where just very not...Molly. That is to say, not work mode Molly. After all, Molly Hooper did gravitate to the ridiculous side in her wardrobe in most of her extra curricular activities.

Sherlock went through possible scenarios for the need of such high heels. He further ruled out a date (the lack of care on her dress or hair) or an attempt at so called bettering herself. Was it a secret sexual desire? The brief image of Molly in the heels and garters below her lab coat came into his mind in a flash. As did her former mention of finding great pleasure in her Sex life. It was an unusual image of the pathologist but not with out a certain allure. He shifted uncomfortably.

A wave attraction suddenly flooded him, but he quickly replaced that with a sense of curiosity. Surely that was the root of most attraction. The allure of a mystery. It had nothing to do with the thought of a particular pathologist in a pristine lab coat and heels who had proved her affection for him countless times. He took a sip of his coffee and made him self get a grip. But why the heels? The thought was beginning to plague him and he felt that familiar thrill flow through him. There is a mystery to solve.

Molly hasn't flaunted a new Man in her life as she had in the past, but also it had not been but two months the termination of her engagement to Meat-dagger. Was she still sleeping with the idiot? Or had she met some other equally idiotic man? Perhaps they just enjoyed ( he grimaced) physical intimacy together. A fling? He studied Molly. No, she wasn't having regular sexual intercourse, well at least with another, she was using that demented pink phallic thing he kept in her nightstand with an almost alarming regularity.

He examined her from the top of her head she had recently had a trim, but no new cut or color to indicate a need for a 'new' Molly, clothes weren't new and he'd seen her wear this particular combination at least twice a month. Molly was still Molly, just the same as always. Only wearing several inch, impractical black high heels to work in the lab. It was perplexing

"Figured it out yet?" Molly cut through his thoughts. She wasn't looking at him, but he could see her half smile from behind her own microscope. She was amused that she could read him. He was rather annoyed to be discovered by her. With a glare he replied. "Not yet. But I'm close to it."

She answered back a non committal hum and moved on to her filing cabinets.

"You are not going to tell me are you?" She smiled and secret smile. "You are Sherlock Holmes, and you enjoy figuring out a good mystery. Go on then. Figure it out."

And with that she flounced out of the lab.


	2. Chapter 2

Higher Chapter 2

I own nothing here. As much as I wish I did. All rights go to the original creators and writers, Composers and performers. * ** see notes at the end. ***

Evening of day 54. Warm and foggy.

Missing a night of sleep was once a common occurrence at 221B Baker Street. Its tenant was prone to unusual hours and work that would consume his every need, every moment. But, at least for the time, those nights were over.

This night brought with it a battle that was not unusual to Sherlock. The boredom was clawing at his skull and demanding activity to appease it. He strove to be so occupied during the waking hours that his mind begged for release. Each evening he and John would converse about the dullness of the day. Lab results and various cases, with John silently begging Sherlock to need him to stay at the flat. The tension between John and Mary was devastating him, but Sherlock knew it was simply a matter of time before John would forgive his wife for attempting to murder his best friend. Sherlock had after all. So Sherlock would send him on his way and go about the business of distracting his brain.

For hours he'd consume books as if they were merely pamphlets left regarding tourist destinations. He studied anatomy studies, astronomy ( truly this Stephan Hawkins was making it somewhat impressive with his theories) and once he had bought a guide to astrology that made him laugh so hard nearly torn his stitches. The great Sherlock Holmes even branched so far as to study botany of fruit trees and Apiology. The latter had him amused as the thought of how he'd be able to keep them on his balcony. After all, Mrs. Hudson would love to have fresh honey right?

Later on he'd turn to his violin and play for hours. Mindlessly, improving known compositions and sometimes composing new. Through it all he resisted experiments and decided to confine those to lab hours. Eventually, the pain in his body would demand that he gave it rest, and he would finally obey the order of bed rest his doctors insisted on. The medicine he'd been given ( non narcotic) did give him a few hours of rest. Although it did lead to rather vivid dreams.

When Sherlock finally drifted into sleep he heard soon heard a familiar cadence of clacks. Molly. He followed the sound and found that it led him to a small room that reminded him of his dance studio as a child. As he entered into the room and found Molly dressed in a gown straight out Strictly Come Ballroom. She glittered and shinned brightly in a dress flowed and suited and made him curious. Her hair was up in an elaborate style and helped reveal the creamy tone of her skin as it was offset by the deep purple of the dress that so well suited Molly. The cut and adornment of the dress revealed her small but elegant curves in a way that made him ache to hold her and feel the curves himself. The damn heels from that morning were of course gracing her feet and giving Molly several inches of height and a straighter carriage. Curse those Heels. Sherlock had little doubt that they were the reason for this ridiculous dream scenario.

Molly Hooper had always been tolerable to look at despite her small mouth and small breasts. While she didn't subscribe to society's typical vision of loveliness, she possessed a certain unique beauty. But the vision of Molly before him was stunning. The way she held her arms with practiced elegance as she practiced her routine, a jaunty Foxtrot, if he remembered his final routine correctly was entrancing. He, in turn was utterly captivated by her.

Molly glanced up as smiled a nervous smile at him. "I'm so glad you are here! Lets do the routine one last time. It simply must be perfect. " she glided toward him with palms up and grabbed his hands. "Shall we?" She asked. Sherlock was surprised to see himself now dressed in full tails.

With a slight gulp he took her hands and the sounds of an orchestra filled the air in a far off way. He pulled her into his arms. A feeling he'd never consciously admit to as pleasure crept over him as held her gently in position. Then they were off. With her new found height, Molly was now tall enough to place her head into the curve between his collarbone and chest. He glanced at their surroundings and was amazed to find that they were now performing the routine up on stage with a large audience. The Foxtrot they performed was sweet and elegant. It suited Molly perfectly. While dancing she showed tremendous confidence and smiled constantly. Their audience was as impressed as he was with her as they took their bows and applause.

Suddenly the lighting and music softened and changed. And he looked to Molly to find that she had as well. The purple gown was now a soft peach made of shimmering organdy that folded and melded to her warm, flushed body. Her hair was loose and curled as it had been at Christmas. She reminded him of a Sunrise. With a smile she said "We're doing Fantastic. You have the waltz mastered Sherlock. Lets do this. "

Chopin's A Waltz in A minor surrounded them as he took her closer to him and they began the tighter, more controlled flowing movements. The screen around them Changed into that of the London sky line at dawn. The light was growing and Molly seemed to glow in the morning light. Sherlock tried to keep his eyes off of her, but he was unable to advert his eyes from her throat. He realized that the crowds were gone and it was just she as him, alone on the rooftop. The temptation to stop right there and learn the feel of her skin against his lips was to much. He pulled her to a stop. Her warm eyes locked onto his lips and he could see her pulse thundering. "Sherlock..." She half whispered, half sighed.

And then the alarm sounded.

I had no idea I was going to be writing this chapter. The plot bunnies took this one and ran with it. I know that it fits so well just let this be since Sherlock was way patient and went with it. I think I've had this image of him since he said in TSOT that he loved dancing and did his spin. That being said I never got to take dance lessons and I replied on YouTube for a general idea. For the Foxtrot I came across a song called 'It was so beautiful' as performed by Debroy Summers and band with vocals by Dan Donavan, in 1932. I dig old music. Really old music.

The waltz I set against the Chopin piece featured above.

So I hope you enjoyed this dream sequence. Chapter 3 is in progress but I have a lot of real world obligations over the next few days. Look for 3 on Tuesday.

P.s thank you favorites, follows an reviews. Y'all are my happy thoughts today.


	3. Chapter 3

Higher 3

As per usual, I own nothing. Be nice if I did though.

Wednesday day 55. Lingering Fog and muggy feel in the air. Headache. Chest aches.

Sherlock had not woken up in the best of moods. It was the damn pain pills fault. Definitely not his subconscious that he dreamt of Molly in that absurd way.

Rubbish herbal remedies.

Grudgingly, he got out of bed and dressed and made his way towards St Bart's via the cafe he frequented.

The line was fairly short and he was greeted personally when he walked in by the barrista, a young woman working here by day and penning her novel at night. She was fresh faced and annoyingly bright each morning, but he could tell that she had a witty,

bright greeted him. "The usual for you and your girlfriend, Sherlock?"

He growled at her the sound of his displeasure "I do not understand how that seems relevant to a daily purchase. If I had a girlfriend shouldn't she be here along side me?" He gave slight turn to the side.

"Ah, boyfriend then. I'm sure he appreciates you buying." She smiled. It was friendly enough, but the girl was clever and he knew that she was just inviting him to a verbal sparing match. She wouldn't like the out come of him revealing that she's skimming tips "Not really my thing either. I'm a committed man to my work. I have no time for dalliances. " a small voice in his head added in a mocking tone. "Yes, I am awful committed to lab work. No time or interest for anything, or anyone else. Just so many slides to view" he growled again at the thought.

With a nod to her he grappled the cups and journeyed the three remaining blocks to his Wednesday morning 'commitment'. Sherlock was not looking forward to being trapped there till lunch.

As he walked through the lab door, it occurred to him that coming in today was a mistake. He really should have called the day off. For there stood Molly Hooper a full 3 1/2 inches taller than normal, leaning against a table while she made notes on a report against the clip board in her hands. He was riveted to her from those damn heels up to her fitted orange ( really Molly ) trousers and blue frilly, flouncy top, to her pristine lab coat. On her face she wore her new (electric blue) reading glasses. Combined with her everyday ponytail she looked like a caricature of a chic scientists. But she looked terribly,endearingly, adorable. God he hated her. Hated himself. Hated those glasses, lab coat and damned shoes for making him think the word adorable. They were the only redeemable parts of her outfit. Sherlock's mind betrayed him then as it shot him a mental image of just what he would look like in only her. accessories. His self hatred went straight from hatred to loathing.

He groaned at his basic male desires and glared at her. Shook the image away ( annoyingly he noticed that it goes into a keep for later pile and not the delete section) .

" The heels again Molly? That doesn't seem to be the wisest choice around some of the corrosive chemicals you have been known to work with." He studied the ridiculous footwear . There was a hole in the front that revealed the pathologist coral tipped toes. While he wasn't surprised at her wearing paint he was still just put off by the shoes over all. The color was adding to his distraction.

Molly Hooper sighed and continued with her notes on the report. "We'll yes, good morning to you too. I'm fine yes. I agree a terrible day. We are due some sunshine aren't we. And yes they are back today. " She put down her clip board and strode over to his station where he had set her cup. Sherlock was glad to see that she was much stabler in the foot wear then she had been the previous day. She must have been practicing. Her brown eyes glanced up and she finally smiled "Thank you for this. You are right on time. I slept like a baby last night, but still woke up with a headache. Must be this weather."

Sherlock hummed along non noncommittally. He went about pulling materials and his other morning routine before settling down to get started notating he cell damage on his assigned slides. Before digging in he took a sip of coffee and heard Molly Giggle. He glanced up and saw she had been looking him but was quickly averting her gaze. Surprise was written all over her face though.

"What is it Molly? Do I have something on my face?" Molly rarely giggled at him. She usually had a more reserved smile when it came to her finding him amusing.

"Sherlock, who made your coffee this morning?"

He gave her a perplexed look. But answered."The same woman who has made it for several weeks. Why?"

"Has she shown any interest in you?"

"What do you mean, interest. She makes our coffee. "

"Sherlock, look under your cup."

It read in a decidedly feminine handwriting ' single and searching'.

"Let me clarify. She used to make our coffee." Apparently it was time to inform her boss after all about the skimming.

Molly gave him his smile and he returned it. She moved on and settle into her desk. Sherlock ignores her steady cadence as she moves about the room. For surely he was more distracted then he would be to any other sounds? But why was she wearing them?

Time passed with only the briefest of distractions found to be coming from Molly's clacking around. He tuned it out as best he could and focused on the log he had to complete. Paper work was essential but so damn tedious. His first week 'interning' for Molly he'd made many attempts to get her to make the notes and he perform the actions. She in turn had threatened to revoke the offer and let his brain rot while he convalesced. He supposed he owed filling paperwork out for her. Molly had saved his life several times.

Molly's phone rang out a generic calypso tone and she grimaced. A call she was avoiding then .

Sherlock didn't even pretend that he was eavesdropping as she answered voice filled with apprehension.

"Hello Jillian." Pause. Molly rolled her eyes. "Yes, Jillian. I got your 3 emails about it." She was now gripping the desk. " I do have a job too- ok. I said OK. Goodbye Jillian! "

She hit end as a voice shrilly continued to speak. Then stood rather quickly, and seeming to forget she had the blasted heels on attempted to storm out. Within three steps however, her left shoe remained on the floor and her foot met with the cold tile. She stopped then and with all the dignity she mustered she spun around and retrieved it. Sherlock saw with a small amount of alarm that her face showed small evidence of pain but she made no sound of pain.

"Molly?"

"Air. I'm going to get air. I'll be right back. " at that she proceeded out the door with a slower, yet still determined pace.

In all the weeks Sherlock Holmes had been an intern he'd never been left alone in the lab. He was fairly sure it had been one of the stipulations for her supervisor to agree to the position. Along with God only knew what else.

But now, in this moment he was alone. A week ago there was any number of things he would have attempted to try, but Molly was the only thing that his mind was interested in at the moment. He meandered over and began deducing Molly from the things on her desk. There sitting open was the answer for his mystery. Ah yes. Well that explained it then. Satisfied he went and sat back down. Now he would be able to move past the thought of Molly's charming petite feet encased in the high heels that shaped her legs...

Sherlock swallowed. Maybe he needed air as well. It was time for a break he supposed. Pulling out his mobile he checked texts. 3 from John, ranting about Mary and his marriage. Still not close to a reconciliation though. 1 text from Mary about John. More Ranting. Honestly those two. Wasn't he supposed to be the one with trust issues?

He left the lab and went to the Canteen. His medicine also made him hungry almost constantly. Right now he decided a bagel would fill the need rather well. He got in que and debated weather or not he should get his unstable supervisor anything. He knew that she would be avoiding sweets and fats for the next few days, but decided to get her her own bagel and creme cheese. It was the best that he could do for her in her situation he reasoned.

While on his way back he passed a small turn off where he found the back of Molly who was panicking into her phone. "No one? Where am I going to find one by tomorrow!? And for that long. This is just impossible. Why did I allow myself to get into this situation? Yes,I remember. But that was months ago, and given the situation...you are right. Jillian will have my head if I show up without one. I think she wants me to fail. She will need someone to take her anger on and I'm now feeling like a sheep to slaughter. No! none! Ha! That is not going to happen. Right. Well thank you anyways. Yes, goodbye - I will."

Molly turned around and walked back toward the corner where Sherlock Holmes was recently standing. The man himself was already back in the lab however, wondering what a gentleman was supposed to do in a situation such as this.

Any guesses?


	4. Chapter 4

Higher 4

Day 55. 11am.

To describe the air in the lab as tense would be an understatement. It was thick and somehow charged and completely uncomfortable to be in. All that was missing was the spark to ignite it.

If Sherlock Holmes was a decent man he'd offer to assist Molly Hooper. If he was a good one, he would do it cheerfully. But he wasn't a good man. And rarely a decent one. He frowned and tried to think of the solution to this conundrum.

For her part Molly wasn't even concerned with her lab partner. Her plate was full tying up ends before her hellish weekend was going to begin. She gave no notice to Sherlock's staring off and it gave him an opportunity to observe her and weigh his decisions and their consequences in relative privacy.

Act or ignore. Accept or refuse. Remain the same, or change.

When John had learned that he had asked Molly to work on solving crimes together as a thank you for her help in faking his death and keeping the secret for years, his friend and let him know how bad that was and insisted in Sherlock buying her a ridiculous bouquet of flowers ( which Molly rolled her eyes over and blamed John) and him writing her a thank you note. His mind traveled back to the conversation he and Molly had shared on the day they had shared together. She had told him how glad she'd been, how it had been her pleasure to help him. But when he'd brought her the flowers with his brief note she had smiled so brightly tears welled up in her eyes. He didn't know how she managed it but Molly Hooper, Pathologist Registrar looked stunning when she cried and smiled together like that . The note had been simple, direct and no where near as personal as the conversation they had shared in person where he's told her that she had been the one to matter most... But he had said how he trusted her to do the impossible when it had been needed, and if there where ever a time she needed him he would be there.

Even a fool would be able to deduce that Molly was unhappy. Her engagement failed, her heart broken by him and his behavior with the drug relapse to get Magnussen attention case. Then there where his two near death experiences. Not to mention Janine's public slandering and sensationalized if his (so called) sex life. Well all combined he really want proud of himself either. So much of her pain had been from him.

Through it all had been Molly. The rock. Molly who had slapped him to remind him of who was important. Molly who had refused to let Sherlock get bored in the hospital. And the quiet woman who didn't insult him with questions about his so called engagement and had offered him this lab position. Yet another image of her from a bright white room telling him how to survive the bullet that had ripped him apart. Molly the Hooper: savior of Sherlock Holmes.

And now, he saw a way to thank her. Too right wrongs as best he could. It was his turn to do the impossible for her.

With a deep breath for courage he stood and walked to the desktop she was working at.

"Molly"

She stilled at the sound of her name, but didn't look at him. He wondered if she was as aware of the thickness of the air as he had painfully been.

" Bagel?"

Her eyebrows drew up in surprise and a thoroughly confused look came over her face she smiled a tiny half smile at him. Sherlock turned and brought the paper bag he had purchased in the canteen. Then settled down at the stool before him. Molly continued her silent processing as he laid the snack out before her. They both sat down and after Sherlock started eating his right away, Molly just looked at hers then up to him.

" I refuse to play your games Sherlock. I'm not giving you anything to take with you today. I mean it."

"It's a bagel Molly. You haven't eaten since that disgrace of a dinner last night. Eat. "

Unconvinced, she took it from him. And they settled down at a cleared station. They started to eat and suddenly Molly spoke. He steeled himself for the conversation.

"Do you think it is possible for normal people to have arch enemies?" She glanced at him hesitantly.

There had been no part of Sherlock that was anticipating her to say that however. It knocked him completely off guard. He knew his expression was reflecting his shock and uncertainty, but all he could manage was a bewildered, "What?"

She took a tiny gulp of air. "Arch enemies. People who you are just constantly pushing you into competition with them, that you don't even like. They are always trying to make themselves look better than you. Be better than you. Always, always pointing out your flaws, and looking flawless in comparison "

Honestly he was trying to follow her, but he was getting lost as to why this was what she wanted to talk about in spite of her other looming issues. "Well..."

" Obviously, Jim - I mean." She stutters and glanced down. "Moriarty. Well, he'd be considered yours right? You naturally would have one. But what about normal people? Do we get to have them too?" Molly was embarrassed, painfully unsure of herself. It's been months since this side of her had appeared. The day she explained about meat dagger. The day he told her he hoped shed be very happy...

Molly pressed on clearly wanting this explained. While she spoke, she began tearing apart her bagel.

"Jillian is my cousin. My clever, lovely, cousin who I can not stand for even two minutes. In our school age years she was beautiful, popular, athletic and the complete opposite of everything I've ever been. What ever I excelled at, Jillian was there out shining me. In Uni, after I declared medicine, so did she. I concentrated in Pathology, she choose Oncology. Now she's employed at a research lab, and from hearing her talk you'd think she is just this close to curing cancer while I'm here in the dungeon playing morbidly with dead things and detectives."

She was gesturing more and more animatedly. But stilled when she mentioned her work with New Scotland Yard and himself and he saw the flush of anger deepen into darker blush. After a timid bite of a piece bagel. She continued.

" I had thought there was nothing left for her to compete with me over, but I was wrong. A week after Tom and I announced our engagement,a save the date arrived from Jillian's mother. Showing off the small island that Jillian now drags with her from her left hand. A gift from the Honorable Judge Richard P Houser the third. " she continued eating another bite and then pressed on yet again.

"Of course family obligations had to be made and I found myself pressed into a conversation with my Aunt Ruth, Jillian and various other family pains. When Aunt Ruth spoke of how she and my mother used to dream about how close Jillian and I would be and how we would be in each others weddings it somehow needed with a rather tipsy me agreeing and inviting Jillian to become a bridesmaid. She extended the courtesy back and here I am. No longer having a wedding, and committed to not only attend but be involved in this wedding of someone I don't know and someone I can't stand to be around. Add to that her demands that I show up with a date since my 'abandonment from Tom' and I'm ready to run for the hills."

Abandonment from Tom? For Gods sake. What kind of idiots did Molly's family contain. After all, Molly ended her relationship with that idiot. Hadn't she?

"What time do you need to be picked up?"

Molly's large brown eyes rounded and stared at him like he had just turned lilac in front of her.

"What are you talking about Sherlock?" She barely said it was so quiet.

Clearing his throat he told her " I'm accompanying you of course."

"No!"

"Molly, you are in need of an escort to this wedding. I am painfully free, so I shall accompany you. There it's settled. Now what time?"

Her eyes turned more pointed as she stared at him. " I did not ask you to come Sherlock."

"You were told to bring a date correct?"

"Yes, but that in no way means im taking you. I have not asked you, nor do I plan to Sherlock. Have you gone daft!" Molly had stood up and was leaning heavily on the desk. He was fairly certain that she was fighting the urge to run.

"But you do need a date I'm prepared to take you. What objections could you possibly have?"

"Ha! What objections!? Sherlock, are you mad? What makes you think that I am so desperate to accept your pity date. I am capable of finding a friend to attend with me, or deal with a cross Jillian if I can't. "

A dangerous look had overtaken her. Was she about to slap him again like he had the day he'd even dragged in here for a drug test? He had deserved it then, but now for offering to take her to a social event she was becoming feral. It made no sense at all.

" I am not coming out of pity Molly. I -"

"You are not coming at all Sherlock Holmes. I will find a friend to join me or not.I will deal with my family how I see fit. " She turned to put her trash in the container and strode back to her desk.

" You don't want me to come with you? Why?" He demanded while studying her closely.

" Why would you want to come?" She retorted.

"I never said I wanted to go-" she laughed dryly. "And I never said I wanted you to come." Sherlock stood and crossed the table.

"I thought, given all the help you've been to me in the past that I could do this for you. " She turned and returned over to him " I never asked you to do anything in exchange for my help. You do not owe me. As for accompanying me, to a wedding, to a FAMILY wedding you would not like it. Not for a moment. God knows the only reason you handled John's so well is because of course you discovered a murder plot, and once that had come to a finish, along with your other ( italicize) business of the evening you left. What would you have done without those distractions then? And to want to come with me, where I would be the only person you know to an event you'll detest... Why would you volunteer? What is in it for you? "

The chance to see you be happy, he thought.

"Are we friends Molly?" Was his Answer. Their eyes locked but he saw her brown orbs briefly flicker down to his lips before locking immediately back to his.

She swallowed and spoke lowly. "Yes. I … I suppose we are. "

"We'll then, as friends would allow me assist you and escort you to your arch enemies blessed event?" Their gaze remained locked but he could tell that she had made her decision slowly she began to nod. A triumphant smile

"So Molly, I'll ask again. What time should I pick you up?"


	5. Chapter 5

Higher 5

John, Come to Baker Street. Immediately. Matter of extreme importance -SH

Geoff, need your assistance at Baker Street. Don't send the helicopter -SH

There was always something he missed.

Sherlock had made many a bad choice in his life. By comparison though this one was huge. This time he'd gone to far. What had he gotten himself into? It was supposed to be simple. Escort Molly to her cousin's wedding. Sit down, smile and fill a seat. That is what he had intended when he offered after all.

Finding out the bloody wedding was to be held in Hastings and that Molly's presence was required for three days, as was his as he was her Escort was enough to make him panic. Three whole days? It was enough to make him ill.

How did this happen? How had he let this... Urge to protect Molly go so far. She had stood right in front of him and told him that she didn't want or need him to come to the wedding with her. That had been a way out. One he should have taken. However he'd insisted like the fool he clearly was. Now the commitment was made.

He was a right fool.

An hour later he was storming around his flat when Lestrade and John arrived. The latter took one look at Sherlock and headed for the Scotch tumbler. Lestrade took a longing glance at it too, but was still on duty. He made himself grab a glass of water instead. Then sat down on a chair he dragged from the Kitchen.

"Well then?" The detective Inspector said.

Sherlock stopped his pacing and with his face turned he uttered a low curse then turned around to them. " I've made a terrible error. I... I've made an agreement to do something that I... It's... I can't do it. "

John glanced up at him. " Care to elaborate?"

He shook his head petulantly.

" So you need us to do what about it exactly then ? What situation have you gotten into. " Lestrade questioned.

John chuckled. " Is it another west end show with your parents? That ABBA one perhaps?"

Sherlock picked up his phone and tossed it in the air, catching it. His mind raced to find a solution. Then it hit him it was simple.

" I've made a social commitment without thought. It looks like I need either of you to go in my place. " glancing between the two as he evaluated each candidate.

Lestrade would make a charming guest and Molly was sure to be safe while with him, but was he a danger himself? The D.I's marriage was still in disrepair all though he insisted on keeping the farce up. Would setting Molly and he together cause future problems for him?

As he glanced to John, a cleared choice he saw the weariness in his eyes. Perhaps John would be the ideal candidate. He was still in love with his wife, even of he didn't like her very much presently. At least he wouldn't have to worry about a romantic entanglement between the two. However, Sherlock noted the way he clasped the glass of scotch closely. Calculating the amount of alcohol the doctor had consumed in his off hours plus the opportunity to do so over a long weekend spelled disaster. Particularly at a wedding with his own marriage in such shambles. If he were to go he'd be drunk and useless to Molly. No, John Watson was not a wise choice for his replacement. Damn.

This is going to be far harder then he imagined.

"Who the hell got you to make a social commitment?" John smirked.

" Molly. She's attending a wedding and is required to bring a guest." Sherlock began drumming on his knees.

" We'll good for her. She finally asked you eh? Way to go Molls." Lestrade was chuckling. It was grating on Sherlock's nerves.

"She didn't ask me... I sort of volunteered to escort her. I however failed to note that she need a escort for a few days rather than hours. So now I need to find a replacement."

" You volunteered? Willingly so?" John's mouth was agape "Why on Earth would you do something like that! What does Molly have in the freezer that your after now? Another head?"

"So that's how Sherlock Holmes asks a girl out. Waits for her to need him for once. Not half bad. And about time to of you ask me."

"For Gods sake! Not everything I do has a selfish end game to it. Or a romantic end. I am not taking her for any reason other then she was in distress. Her cousin is insisting she come with a date and I... Volunteered as a friend should. " Sherlock bit back.

"Wait, you said you'd go, freely and of your own will, as her friend, but now you are backing out and wanting one of us to go in your place? You great bastard. After all you've put Molly through you think this is the way to repay her. This! If I didn't trust her enough to slap you for this I would do it myself. No, Sherlock. You are on your own with this. When you agreed you committed yourself, and you are going to follow up with your promise. " John was livid.

"Oh, you mean like your marriage vows John?"

The two shared a pointed, challenging look." Do. Not. Go there.-" John hissed. Lestrade finally cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Are you really that thick? Just go with her. Three days will pass in the blink of an eye. "

" What about the social interactions? I can fake a few moments, but Days? With family that she herself detests? It's going to be unbearable. "

"Sherlock, you owe Molly Hooper your life." A message was being transmitted to Sherlock from John. One that read 'On more than one occasion' when his friend sternly commanded. "Just go with her. Be the friend you claim yourself to be. Arrive and stay where you are put. Just sit, nod, and for Gods sake keep your mouth shut. "

He stood and walked to the door. Lestrade stood as well. "Sherlock, try to behave. For Molls sake. She's had a rough year with everything that's happened. But when, I mean IF you hurt her, you will be answering to me do you understand?"

Sherlock gave his first smile of the afternoon. "Yes, understood Detective Inspector. Making practice of me before those beau start calling for your daughter. Good idea. You are terrible at it. " the smile broadened a bit.

"Git"

The two men stepped out and once on the street they looked at each other. "Bet a 50 that he ruins the wedding? " Lestrade chuckled.

" Make it 100 if the two end up snogging."

It was Johns turn to laugh. "You're on. "

Thank you for all the follows, favorites and reviews. They make me do a happy dance. A delightfully awkward one.


	6. Chapter 6

Just a heads up, rather shocking to believe but I own none of this and it's to damn bad.

Day 56.9 am. Pouring rain with gusting winds. Miserable . Of course.

The wind was howling through the train station, bringing leaves of myriad of colors as they made their way through the passengers waiting. Sherlock Holmes kept an eye open to find his travel mate. The train they would be taking to Hastings had arrived and he dearly wished to go ahead and board. He decided to wait for Molly however because if she didn't arrive there was no reason for him to take the trip.

A bit of colorful movement coming down the way caught his eye. It was her. Sherlock wasn't sure if he felt agony or relief from the sight of her.

There she was. Arms ridiculously full of a garment bag, along with her knapsack. She was dressed in a pair of boots, slender denim jeans (another new purchase) and her large rain jacket. There was a cream colored knit beret covering the top of her he's and a loose shoulder braid hung over one shoulder. She was a wash of textures and patterns, and completely Molly. She didn't smile when she saw his standing there in fact she looked disheartened. The feel of her gaze as it traveled over him weighed heavily on him.

"You've changed your mind then? That's - it's... Fine. Really it is." Sherlock turned his chin up in incomprehension.

"What do you mean Molly? I'm here am I not?"

"Well your bag, I ... You do remember that it's for two nights, right Sherlock? We won't be returning this evening. "

For someone so brilliant she tended to be quite dense when it came to practicality.

"I had the porter stow it when I arrived. Shall we see to yours now?"

The blush and heat took only moments to overtake her. His eyes were riveted as she bit her cheek in annoyance. She wasn't happy but not as miserable either. "Right. Right then."

After sorting the bags out the two travelers made their way on board and found the car ( "not carriage ?" Molly had giggled a bit reminding Sherlock of their day together) about 3/4 full. While they could each find individual rows they were not near eave other so it was quickly decided that they would go ahead and sit together lest it get flooded at the next station.

"Window or aisle Sherlock?" Molly questioned when they found a empty row.

"Aisle please. "

Old habits died hard but ease of access was one of them. Sherlock Holmes was not one who enjoyed idyllic scenery passing by. Molly of course found the view to be her favorite part of traveling.

Molly scurried in and sat down pulling of her rain coat. Underneath the coat she had worn a warm oatmeal cardigan and a white basic tees with a picture of a kitten lounging on its back. She kept the blasted hat on.

With his Belstaff and scarf chucked to join hers he revealed his lack of typical suit. He wore a typical button up dress shirt but a pair of jeans. He turned to sit down but noticed Molly's gaze was riveted to his lower half.

"It's a pair of Jeans Molly. Nothing that interesting I assure you. "

Perhaps he should start keeping track of how fast her face turns red when embarrassed. It was almost alarming how fast she had become such vermilion shade.

"It's just a bit shocking to see when I look at... Oh no I wasn't looking. Oh God. No! I was just surprised to see you in jeans."

He sat down and the two shifted a bit further apart as they finished settling in. There was no way to advance this line of conversation. Molly gave the act of pulling out her entertainment for the trip far then the needed amount of attention and pulled out an e-reader, the blue reading glasses and a colorful canteen. Then she set about getting comfortable and after adjusting and re-adjusting yet still looked unsettled.

" I didn't even think you owned anything denim." She admitted looking up over the row in front of her. He was fairly certain that she haven't even mean to say it out loud.

" Of course I do. I am a modern man after all. Spent quite a lot of time in jeans during my,well my travels. They are better for some of my more adventurous cases. And travel. "

"Right. That makes sense." She muttered and let out a rather manic laugh. " Of course our first conversation on this trip is about your trousers. How fitted. FITTING!. Her hands flew over her eyes and a pained moan came across her lips "This trip is going to be a disaster and the train hasn't even pulled off yet. "

She took her hands down and turned to face towards him once more.

"Sherlock, it's not too late. You don't have to do this. This is a bad idea, a terrible, rubbish idea. And we don't have to do it. I know I'll be fine, and I swear not to be upset or cross if you walk away now. I can go alone. It's fine. "

Her brown eyes bore into his. It confused him that he could read so much of what she was feeling under such a dark cloak. But in the dark depths he saw every emotion she was feeling. All the fear, anger and frustration mixed together with the loneliness and the unending hope that she felt. He squeezed her hand. When had she grabbed his? Or had he grabbed hers. Startled by the pressure she looked down at their joined hands as if she too were unsure of how that had transpired. Simultaneously they released each other. Both embarrassed by the contact.

The chance to escape was here. All he had to do was make his apologies and go. Just say the words and rise.

"Molly..."

The tone announcing departure rang and the train took off with a small jolt.

Too late. Damn it. Oh hell.

Molly turned and looked toward the window. The overcast day light from the car gave him a perfect view of her reflection. She was tearing up. Not a sound came however. Not good at all.

The Burroughs and towns rolled by along with the scenery. Not that Sherlock allowed himself to look out the window beside him.

Molly had picked up the e-reader and read quietly. Sherlock had deduced every person in the car. Every porter that passed and the entire plot of the supposed mystery novel the gentleman across the aisle was reading. They still had over an hour before their arrival. Damn it.

He felt it creeping up on him. The itch. The need. The excruciating pain of it. Boredom. His body responded with a tapping finger then the tempo increased and with it the number of digits. Soon the bouncing began. Molly didn't say a word as she reached into her knapsack and pulled out 2 medical journals. Each marked with a series of different colored tabs.

" The blue are revisions and updates. Green new advancements. Yellow rare Cases that you may enjoy. Red are quacks looking to see their name in print." All was said without so much as a glance

"Thank you."

He settled back in and began to read. The periodical was ancient by most terms as it was issued during the two years he had been away. As be studied the tabs that marked each article he deduced that they had been there since the magazines were new.

The subjects marked were clearly to his interests more than hers. She had done this, with him in mind years ago.

"Thank you. Did it help?"

"Humm?" She sighed, tearing her eyes off her novel.

"Notating this for me, while I was away. Did it help?" The question was out.

Her shoulders tightened then relaxed. " It did. I found it to be therapeutic. Marking those journals was something I could do when I felt alone. A small act of hope that one day you'd be back. "

The admission surprised him, although he wasn't quite sure why. Before he'd died she would save him articles frequently. Kept them in a binder in her flat for him when he, while rarely came by. That she had kept up the hobby, had faith that he would return comforted him in a way he had not been aware that he had been lacking.

Time passed by, he didn't read, and they didn't talk, yet the tension between them eased marginally.

"Sherlock?"

Molly was setting her things aside as fidgeting, yet he paid her no attention .

"Sherlock! Please! Will you let me up?" Molly pleaded. He acted as if he heard her not at all, and in that state he probably had not. Typical Sherlock to go into his thoughts, but her bladder was becoming insistent. There was nothing else to do. Standing she started to climb over him. The train took that moment to take curve sharply and Molly went sprawling into his lap in a completely untoward straddling position.

Reflexes took over and he managed to grab her tight around the waist before she fell over him.

"Are you all right?"

Fire. She looked like she had been flashed by a bright atomic light. The heat rolled off of her and onto him.

"Yes. Fine. Please let me go now." She begged.

Molly struggled to find a place to push up off of him that wasn't part of his anatomy which had suddenly come into far more contact with his. Sherlock fought the fact that Molly was unintentionally causing friction on certain sensitive parts of his anatomy. She finally grabbed hold of his shoulders and he lifted her up. Standing next to her she met his eye and murmured a thank you.

Sherlock sat down and started to will his body to calm itself. The thoughts that his mind had been having about Molly in heels and lab coats were nothing compared to the feeling of her actual body wrapped around him. Unprepared for the contact it had ignited him. It may have been unintentional, but it was quite unforgettable. Definitely to be thought about and remembered, and filed and locked away in Molly's room in his mind. But right now he needed to think of idiots and the utter stupidity if reality Telly. And breath.

The older gentleman across the way leaned over to him and whispered with a conspiratorial grin. "A man doesn't get that lucky to have a beautiful lady drop into his lap every day, eh young man?"

" Must be my lucky day right?" He answered using a higher voice and a false persona. One of a besotted idiot. It felt far to genuine. The Woman flashed across his mind reminding him that every disguise was just a picture of himself. This one was a bit to raw at the moment.

Sherlock Holmes wasn't sure what it was, but he knew that it was in no way his lucky day.


	7. Chapter 7

Higher 7

Day 56. Noon partly sunny, temp is increasing, but still gusty.

The train was nearing the station in Hastings when Molly finally returned to her seat. When she tapped, shyly on his shoulder to be let in she appeared calm but mildly embarrassed.

Sherlock was fairly certain she had a panic attack in the loo, but was mow in a better frame of mind.

"So sorry about all that before. I truly didn't mean for that to happen. You were so deep in thought in that head of yours...then the curve...and then I..."

"Quite all right Molly, no harm done." He lied smoothly. There was most certainly harm done, but he was never going to admit to that. Perhaps some levity would better this situation. Pressing on he continued. " I am just glad you weren't in your Damned Heels. After all, one does use their legs a vast majority of the time and I hate to think of the stitches I'd require from that particular choice of foot wear."

Molly's flamed and tender face scrunched up at the mention of the shoes. Hatred filled her eyes.

"Those vile, awful shoes. Jillian's Wrath is more like it. Pure torture in patent leather. I plan to toss them the moment I no longer need them. If I had my way of set them on fire. " Molly was shoving her things back into her knapsack.

"You know, every other wedding I've been in the brides have let me wear flats. Or at least a shorter heel option. Jillian, however insisted that all of us wear the exact same despite the fact that the gowns are long. I am fairly sure she choose the height due to my inability to safely walk in them. It would not surprise me in the least that she wants me to fall flat on my face on my walk to the front of the sanctuary. It would absolutely make it the happiest day in her life if she made Moll fall. " she finished grimacing.

Sherlock sensed that he really wasn't expected to talk. Which was a perfectly fine option for him. His treacherous mind was going wildly crazy at the memory of their previous contact but aiding in a wardrobe change into the black heels and shapely legs that lead out of them...The rebellious body was all go ready to remember the feel of those legs around him. Distracting.

"Its a good thing you have no interest in the dancing at the reception tomorrow. I'm rubbish at it in flats, and if I have to attempt it in those monsters I doubt I'll do anything other than make a fool of myself and damage my partners toes. "

"I adore dancing." It slipped out. He had in no way intended to admit that to anyone, ever again. Damn this loss of control. This train ride need to end. He needed to get away from Molly. Now.

"You dance? But you left John and Mary's reception, without a single turn on the floor." Molly was studying him. Concern, not confusion washed her face. "Well I guess that night was already memorable enough as it was. "

He held her soft eyes. "Yes, it was."

Silence fell over them, a sort of calm respectful silence. Neither of them were exactly comfortable, but some of the tension and extreme awkwardness had abated. Molly Hooper understood him and his need for quiet. Sherlock Holmes eagerly took advantage of the silence offered and read another article on proposed, and probably competed and failed research on new vaccinations.

Ten minutes later, the train slowed to a stop and he followed her off to retrieve their bags.

"I called yesterday about the chance of getting us separate rooms, but it seems everywhere is booked for the wedding. We did luck out though, I was able to trade a double bed rather than the Queen sized. " her hands were full and she was not looking directly at him although he knew she was studying him.

Sherlock had no reply. As much as he needed privacy, it seemed pointless to complain about a lack of privacy, and it wasn't like they had not spent time alone before in her lab, or flat even. Why was she so upset by it? John and he had shared a double bed suite countless times.

The two reluctant travelers made their way to the taxi que, and were soon settled and off towards the waters edge in Old Town. The trip was quick and silent and they soon arrived at the Swan House. The ancient inn stood large, but was dwarfed by neighboring St Clements. The two buildings stood as old, sentinels as time marched past. The church with its ancient golden stone and traditional tower, the inn with waddle and daub. Once again the two buildings would join forces to see another couple wedded. A weekly event that helped both the aging piles remain vibrant.

They checked in and received their keys to the room. Upon entering Sherlock was surprised to see that they had a fully modern room despite the lower levels attempts to remain grounded in the past. The walls were papered in bold, rich jewel tones of blue and greens while the neutral beige bedding with deep leather accents grounded the room. It was a small room by normal standards but it would do.

"Sorry it isn't all that spacious. I didn't exactly opt for the largest room when I choose. Pure convenience. Since the Church is right there and I knew I wouldn't be spending a lot of time here." Molly sat her larger bag on a bed and hung her garment bag in the wardrobe. Next she started pulling things from either bag as she ordered outfits together. Sherlock set his by the door and removed his coat and settled into the lone chair by the door. It was fascinating and strange to watch her flutter about as she was.

Through it all she rambled on half to him yet more to herself. " I'm due soon at he Church to help decorate for the ceremony with Aunt Ruth. Then I believe we're to head to the reception and do the same. God only knows what elaborate plans she has for me. After that I will be back here to get changed for the next thing on the itinerary is the rehearsal ( shoot me now please and be done with it) and dinner to follow that at the Italian restaurant down the way. I suppose that you can skip it, all, if you want..." She fumbled a bit and didn't look at him.

"Will you please stop questioning it?"

He snapped.

For the first time since they entered the inn their eyes locked together.

"How can I? It makes no sense for you to have come with me. None. I need answers. What are you here for Sherlock? "

He was up on his feet and across the room before he knew what he was doing.

"Why am I here? You were in need of assistance. After the number to times you've saved me I got the rare chance to help you in a small way. Well, at least I thought it was small when I offered. Not a three days, sea side excursion. I saw you in need and I could fill the need. It is as simple as that. You said we are friends correct?"

They continued to glare silently at one another. Molly was flushed and bright eyed. Her cheeks were a lovely rose hue and her lips... Had they ever been such a deep color before? They looked so soft. So tempting. So very, very close.

He felt himself responding to desire against his will. There was a tightness in his throat when he asked again "Are we friends?"

Molly shivered when he spoke, and

he watched as her eyes slid to his lips. Quietly she answered. "I don't know. "

He gently placed his hands on her heated face, which felt small and tender under his hands and leaned forward.

Ok so I am a southern girl who had never been to GB, and without devoting a ton of time to research I'm just going with my imagination and a heavy dose of what I learned from Wikipedia. That being said, my limited research amazed, aided and inspired me so much and I've added a few little adventures for our hero along the way. I may have just picked a spot on the map, but this story was truly meant to be in Hastings. But please do take my creative imaginings or general lack of knowledge as artistic license and forgive the inevitable mistakes I am making this story. Swan House is a real inn. And lovely going by pictures and tripadvisor. However the room I describe is not at that particular inn. I found a picture of the jewel tone room and it looked like what I would design for Molly and Sherlock. So I'm being kind and putting them someplace they feel comfortable. In addition Old town is real, as is the church.

And as Is customary, I own nothing, no character rights, no locations. Just words.

And can I say wow and thank you to all of you for reading and reviewing and for clicking favorite and follow. You people encourage me to keep pace, and I adore you all! Keep it up please!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \

Higher 8

Day 56... Who the hell cares about weather?

Sherlock stared into the eyes of the women whose face he held firmly, but gently. He felt the heat of her breath on his wrists and the gentle sensation undid what little resolve he had left. To hell with it.

Their lips met in a soft, brief connection. While by no means an expert in the subject he knew he was doing fairly well, yet it was... Not right. Not good. Something was wrong. He sensed more than felt her eyes open as he held her there. Molly was still and stiff and not relaxed for an enjoyable embrace. Had he misstepped? Had he misread her affection for him?He began to pull away,but as soon as he gave the most hesitant of withdrawals, Ah! Yes, there was the missing element: movement. Molly was pressing her lips and returning the embrace, and it was...thrilling.

Poets had waxed endlessly on and on about the joy found in the joining of lips. They wrote of the richness like wine and sweetness of honey and roses along with a hundred other moronic synonyms to describe the meeting of two sets of lips. Sherlock had shared kisses before, most recently a number of them with Janine a few months back. While he had found her to be clever, witty and lovely their relations were awkward and panic inducing to him, it was his commitment to the case that had made them at all tolerable, and then only barely. It's an extreme, ongoing case after all.

Kissing Molly Hooper, was the opposite. She was a safe harbor, a comfort. Molly whose lovely soft eyes asked so little and offered so much. Embracing her felt like coming home. The sensations of texture, friction and the bare, base emotions flaring between he and Molly ... It was magnificent. Simple and amazing all at once.

Molly let out a gasp as her body struggled between its need oxygen and desire to continue the kiss. Her eyes, showcased her insecurity and she was making as few movements as possible as if he were a wild animal. One that she wasn't sure would bolt, or attack. There was little doubt in his mind that she anticipated him to run. A fair part of his did too, but then he had no desire to end this right now. Instead he slid his hands down her enticing neck and around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him. Her hands gripped tightly to the back of his shirt, urging him closer.

"Perhaps we are not friends after all?" He asked then tipped his head back down again to capture her lips once more.

The next kiss was far less controlled. They moved together almost as if in conversation with one another. Sherlock would move and practice different pressures and Molly would respond in kind. They conveyed the longing, desire, and overwhelming fear and even lack of understanding they had to each other. This communication left no room for misunderstanding. Molly Hooper mattered to him.

During this interlude, Sherlock steered them toward the wall. And was now enjoying the delightful way she shifted when he grazed the skin at the edge of her shirt. Just as his tongue swept her upper lip to further deepen the kiss he became aware of a noise from the bed.

An irritating Calypso beat rang out interrupting what they knew was to perfect a moment to last.

"Oh God, no please not yet!" Molly moaned.

The sight of Molly, with swollen lips and lust filled eyes and the feeling of her hands holding his waist now filled him with an odd sense of pride. He had never intended on kissing her, but that certainly did not mean he was going to refrain from doing it again. Sherlock had always been driven by his desires. And right now Molly was all he could think of. There was much more still to do and learn with her, endless experiments to conduct. This was going to be a very, very interesting weekend after all. A wolfish smile took over his face.

"Jillian?" He asked. Of course it was Jillian. Now how to get Molly away from her this afternoon...

"Of course. See, I told you, she has this uncanny ability to ruin anything I enjoy. And that was... Very enjoyable. " An adorable smile and blush lit her face. It was so similar to the one the private one they would share while working together, yet the glint of desire behind it shaded this one to be all together unique. It was one he could get used to seeing on her. Sherlock decided, this was Molly Hooper's happy face. He had done it; he, Sherlock the uncaring bastard that he was, had made Molly happy for the first time in a long, long time.

"I do have to go to the church. " she told him while reading her text messages. "Aunt Ruth needs me. "

She resumed gathering her things. "But I should be back within three hours. " She stopped and stood still.

"Will you be here?" Her eyes sought his again. It wasn't so much doubt making her ask as curiosity. She still anticipated him running away.

He strode back over to her. Picking up one of her hands, lifted it up, turned it over and placed a kiss on a small scar on the center of her palm.

"I'm not leaving Molly." His reward came with the return of her new smile.

"Sherlock, I have no idea what's going on here. But... Thank you."

She slipped out the door. With one last regretful glance at him. He answered back with an equally remorseful look.

When she was gone, he resumed his seat on the leather chair and went to his Mind Palace. There was a good deal work to be done in there.

A/N.

I take it from the reviews that y'all did not like me stopping where I did the last chapter. Sorry about that.I promise to be a good author and not do that again in this story. Now that it has played out, I should have waited and added this part but I was pretty undecided on which direction to go well that, and I'm maybe, possibly/ probably, slightly concussed after I forgot to duck while reaching into my car. ( I am unbelievably clumsy) I'm doing better, but making weird choices. Yay head trauma.

Anyways, I hope this chapter makes up for that terrible cliff hanger.

Thank you for your reviews. I love them, and getting to know all you lovelies They always encourage me.

Mistykins


	9. Chapter 9

Day:56. Feeling Smashing.

As soon as he could Sherlock Holmes accessed his mind palace and sought the door labeled Molly Hooper, Registrar Official St Bartholomew's, Pathologist and Senior lab technician. Walking into to the familiar room he glanced around. It was a replica of her small flat. The comfortable second hand furniture in gaudy mismatched floral patterns against creamy yellow, however where the real flat had nothing but blank walls (Molly had never hung pictures. No tools past a duel screw driver set, and she never remembered to purchase necessary things to do so) Sherlock himself had decorated the walls of the mind palace with framed images of Molly.

Oh the images he had collected here. They were varied and eclectic. Ordinary and exceptional moments of their times together. Glancing around he observed the day they'd met while she was still in residency. She'd made an obscure, yet correct observation that her superior had missed despite clear signs of the beginnings of exhaustion from the end of her long shift. That may not have been the first date she had become aware of him, but that small occurrence certainly was when took notice of the mousey petite woman who was doing her obligatory turn in the mortuary. He had praised her and mentioned that she had an aptitude or this line of work. She had been startled by his attention and blushed and shyly thanked him with a smile. But it had still surprised him although pleasantly when she became a permanent member of the morgue staff. Even more so that her skills were exceptional. So much so that he would refuse to work with anyone else.

On a further viewing he saw other moments that sought to remember. They were not at all pleasant, but necessary to remember. There were ones of her body language and expression after he had related that her so called boyfriend from IT was in fact Gay. Also the distraught look she had given him when she was told said man was also a murder and psychopath who had attempted to kill he and John. The look she wore when he'd broken her apart piece by piece on Christmas Eve...

There was also a lovely candid shot of the look on her face as she helped him prepared to jump of St Bart's roof. Calm, steadfast and determined to get it right. She saved his life that day without a single doubt in his plan or hesitation to do what needed to be done.

His eye became focused on he picture that hung over her fireplace. The smile she saved for rare moments he found her approval. Just looking at it made his own lips turn up did something basic but powerful to him to receive that look. He compared the smile to her newer, more intimate smile and felt the rush of heat flowed through him again.

He turned around and nearly stumbled over something, on the ground: those heels where in the floor along with a trail of clothes belonging to both him and to her leading a path to her bedroom. He followed them down the hall to do so. He gently pushed open the door and saw the familiar sight of her bedroom, the one she willingly gave up when he turned to her in need of care and rest. The room was flooded with a hazy early morning light. On the bed he was captivated to see her naked back. It was so elegant to behold with curves so simple and similar to his beloved violin. Her hips were covered in the coral sheet that she kept on her bed. He watched as his hand appeared on her hip and followed the line of it higher till it rested on he edge of her waist and rib cage. The fingers of his left hand were making soft, brushing movements. He wondered how soft her skin would feel in that intimate spot...

The thought took him by surprise. It wasn't lust that made him curious it was simply the desire to hold and be close to her. Is this what caring was like? Wanting to be that free, that close and available to someone else well her in particular.

It was an idea. A charming idea. To wake up by her and have her warm at his side and smiling that half smile at him...

Sherlock focused more on what to do with this new development in their ...relationship. It was pointless to deny he desired to be with her and that he cared about Molly, but that did not mean he was able to be what she would want and desire him to be in return. Sherlock Holmes was not now, nor would he ever be a good 'boyfriend'. The word alone made him cringe just to think. Yet, being near Molly, and enjoying a more physical relationship with her was something he was interested in pursuing. What the details of that relationship would be remained to be determined.

It looked like a discussion would have to be had between them. Some agreements or arrangement. His stomach knotted at the thought. Communicating feelings. Emotions. Sentiment. Weakness.

Not that he possessed much of those, well excluding the weaknesses. But what would the cost be? Wondering what would require of him as a... person of value in her life. Dinners and evenings together? Dates ( another shudder passed through him.) What about commitments with her?Could she truly imagine he would escort her to functions with coworkers and friends and him sitting quietly and passively while they discussed personnel issues and gossip? Yes, he was doing that now but on a more regular basis that would be hell. What about more personally, what if she asked for commitment? Not that there was anyone else, but what about his cases?After all he was already committed, life long to his work. Was she prepared for the inevitable standing her up and abandoned her for days or weeks if need be and canceling long standing plans in favor of spur if the moment chases? Was Molly going to whine, cry and ask him to give up consulting to make her feel cared for? What other demands or limitations would she make on him.

Sherlock knew himself, he wasn't able to change. It was absolutely inevitable that he would hurt her in dozens of small ways. It was impossible for him to make Molly happy long term.

Disappointment and anger flooded fear was sickening. This...relationship was doomed. It was toxic and it was was going to leave a festering vacant hole in his life as well as hers. Panic began to flood him again. This would destroy every aspect of their professional and personal relationships. The thoughts were turning to how frustrating it was going to be to find a replacement for Molly at Bart's.

The knot tightened further. God help him,the idea of replacing her sickened him worse than the previous thoughts of disappointing her. He was a bastard.

And how he hell would he replace her personally? A brief moment passed where he tried to assure himself that her assistance in the fall could have been performed by any number of Mycroft's lackeys. Yes, the thought that he could have survived the fall without her eased his mind. Perhaps he had not even needed her when he had been shot... But she had been the first person he thought of. The one he'd needed. Molly, was the one he could always count on to help him no matter the situation and, she was always willing to be there for him. She had made a huge difference when he'd been shot.

Molly Hooper was irreplaceable.

She was also now standing in the room with him again dressed not in her casual clothes pulling on a pair of shoes. Sensible, stylish flats for the cocktail dress she wore. The dress, oh Molly. The dress was fine in theory; black and white stripes with a single car of a bright, deep pink. In practice though the bars overwhelmed her and the bright headband that equaled the pink of her dress created a youthful affect. Far to youthful for a 32 year old medical professional.

Molly met his eyes and blushed. Damn, she dress like an overgrown child look like a child but the look in her eyes was far from innocent.

"There's been a change of plans." She said.

Sherlock felt the desire shoot through his blood. He wasn't sure he could speak without breaking his voice like a school boy, so he tilted his head in acknowledgment.

"It seems The restaurant where the rehearsal was scheduled had a small fire the other night, their banquet room is closed. So they will be catering it up hill. Jillian has decided that I am best qualified to oversee that, so I'm skipping the rehearsal and heading up now. Care to join me? "

She sat down on the bed across from him and worked her foot into her shoe. Sherlock strode over to her and sat beside her. She looked up at him and waited.

He pulled her face in for a kiss. A brief press of greeting and stood up. " I'll just get dressed then." Molly nodded, slight surprise from the kiss showed on her face as pulled out her jewelry roll and started going through it till she found the pearly earrings she had been looking for. "I'm going to run down and meet Jillian in the lobby. She's bringing some things for me to take uphill."He sat on the bed by her and riffled through her collection of bracelets and earrings. If it bothered her that he went through her things without asking he paid no mind, he wasn't after anything, just enjoyed fiddling a bit as he looked. He stilled when he came to one set of earrings.

"Molly, how come you never wear these?" The pair in question where a tiny, delicate set of skulls with sapphires set as eyes.

"Oh. Aren't they awesome? My dad got me them when I declared pathology. Too sentimental to wear I suppose. It would break my heart to loose one. I love them." She took them back and rolled them in the pack. Sherlock made no comment.

"Ok, I'm off. " she said grabbing an overly large Yellow. Oh Molly.

"I'll be ready in 10 minutes. " he finally said. She smiled and slipped back our the door.

He grabbed his own bags and took his turn in the en-suite. He splashed cool water on his face and studied his reflection. An aging man stared back at him. Was he truly 35 and still struggling with accepting someone in his life? Granted the last person he allowed himself to become closer to shot him...

But Molly wasn't new. In fact they had known and worked with one another for nearly 6 years. Molly knew who and what he was and his temperaments and she had learned to ride the tide. Perhaps she knew what she was getting into more than he had finished dressing and was out the door in less than five minutes.

As he came into the lobby he heard a voice calling out Molly's name.

"Honestly Molly!" The woman, a petite brunette around the same age as Molly was snapping.

" Here is everything that needs to be set up when you get there. Mother has printed out everything you need to do when you get there. Just please follow it will you- it should be clear enough even for you to figure out. And do not re-adjust anything up there. It's all been stylized and we don't need your unique 'eye' throwing it off. Speaking of which THAT is what your wearing? You look like a walking chair in that over sized print."

Sherlock stood a bit back and watched to two cousins interact. The two were of similar height, coloring and build yet Jillian's eyes were more almond shaped and her nose far straighter than Molly's own. The bride wore her hair up in an elegant twist and her sense of fashion was far more appropriate for a woman their age. However, Jillian was speaking to Molly as if his... Friend were half her age. It was time to stop that behavior once and for all. He took a moment while he had her in her personal element. Jillian was a closet anorexic and had multiple complexes and narcissistic inclinations that where severally bloated with her crowned title of bride despite the fact she knew the groom cheated on her frequently. With men. Seeking to deceive and belittle anyone who threatened her so called happiness.

"Everything alright?" He said approaching the ladies. Molly turned and murmured a placating yes and taking the bag from Jillian.

The bride however eyed Sherlock with surprise and to his own, hatred. She tuned back to her cousin.

"Are you kidding me Molly! You brought Him, Sherlock Holmes to Richard and I's fucking wedding? A known fraud and drug addict here on MY day. I know you are jealous of me but this is too far. Oh, I don't believe you! I told mother that you are trying to ruin my wedding, like you let him ruin your own engagement? I told mother you'd try something and this well this proves it. God, Molly!How desperate are you to hurt me that you'd bring this Arse. I asked you to bring a date not some, erstwhile sex crazed celebrity!" Oh, but she was raging. It was a fearful thing. Every eye was turned to the shouting people being the curious sheep they were.

And Molly just stood there and took it. Sherlock could not believe it. She looked remorsefully both to Jillian and towards himself. Sherlock quickly connected the adamant insinuations of exactly why she did not want him to come with her to whatever reason her family Hated him. And that allegation that he had ruined her engagement, that would have to be figured soon, but first he needed to diffuse the bridezilla bride before him.

"Well Hullo Jillian, yes lovely to meet you to too. Yes, Sherlock Holmes as you know. Do you always draw such attention wherever you go?" All the right words where said but, the false sweetness left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Jillian met him glare for glare. The analytical part of him noted how similar he and Molly looked when they were both angry with him. Their eyes, so similar in color, but not shape deepened to the same dark chocolate. But this was no Molly. There was no care behind the anger only abhorrence. It felt rather unjust really m, but he felt given two more minutes in her company as the feeling would be mutual.

"Oh,I know just who, and what you think you are you complete arse! You had better believe that I you open your mouth even once tomorrow and berate anyone I will sue you. And no, that is NOT an empty threat." Jillian pointed her finger at his chest in warning one last time, than turned on her stilettos and stormed away as fast as they carried her, followed by three far plainer woman clearly the other bridesmaids.

He glanced after them as the ladies, ( ha!) no women made their way out. Jillian and Molly also shared a posterior it seemed. Oh shut up Brain!

Sherlock turned to where Molly stood, still and flushed with embarrassment. She seemed rooted to the ground. Now was the time he needed John to know what to say to make her feel better. What to do? Last time he'd seen her like this was the damn Christmas party where he'd deduced that she was trying to impress some fool, only to find out that the fool had been him all along.

He had kissed her check then, but since they were in a very public place he grabbed her hand and squeezed firmly instead.

"What a charming cousin you have Molly." He spoke with a bitter tone. She didn't move. Sherlock tried to catch her eye, but she evaded his gaze.

"Molly?" He squeezed a bit harder but she still refused to look up to him. With his fee hand he softly tilted her chin till they her eyes finally gave in and met his.

"Is there a reason that Jillian hates me?" He asked far calmer than he felt.

Molly nodded.

"Does that reason have to do with you and Tom ending your engagement?"

She paused, and dropped his gaze before she nodded once again.

a/n

Oh he utter agony of transitional chapters. Sorry for the delay folks. I'm definitely a post as I go person. That being said this chapter refused to fill itself out. I actually got a whole other story started while trying to figure what the heck these people wanted to say to each other and to move the plot along.

Thank you to all of you who review, follow and message me. Especially about the state of my head. I'm so much better than I was and I've stopped sayings stupid things like 'brain crystals' .So yes, I am doing well once more. But if you see something really off, do let me know.

You are all so dear to my heart.


	10. Chapter 10

Higher 10

Day 56: nearly 16:00 The weather is clear although beginning to turn humid... but that is not important.

"Care to fill me in Molly?" It wasn't a request.

"Sherlock it's... A long story, and it's not even about you really. Tom and I... we...and well my family- there was a fight, you came up but nothing you did caused it. It was... Can we please discuss this later? We, I mean I have to be there soon. And well you met Jillian, you can still stay... I can't imagine you want to be around her again. "

She shifted the heavy bag and started a bit toward the door. Sherlock huffed and took the bag from her.

"I think I can handle Jillian, Molly. The question is, can you?"

They walked out. Molly stayed quiet.

"Why do you let her treat you like that, Molly? You absolutely let her speak to you like you were a child. Why?"

Molly let out a sardonic laugh.

"Are you truly telling me I shouldn't let someone talk like that to me? " she gave him a light-hearted smile but it didn't reach her eyes. Deflection.

" I can't deny my past behavior towards you has been lacking in that regard, but for some time I have at least attempted better behavior. I thought that I had improved. Is that how I treated you?"

They climbed into a cab waiting around the corner.

"West Hill, please." Molly told the cab driver. She took a moment to sort our belts and bags then addressed him.

" You're right, it has been a while since you said anything extremely horrible. But I know that given the right moment you won't hesitate to do it. Like the thoughts are there, only you don't say everything you think. I see you filter yourself. That I suppose is a minor miracle. You try, and I appreciate that. We all do. " Molly had reached over and took his hand to squeeze then release but Sherlock gripped hers and she let him hold it. It was a surprise that the ridiculous act brought him peace, not so much that it brought a hint of color back to Molly's pale skin. It must have comforted Molly as well.

"Jillian, well she's always been awful but she's usually more snide about it than shouting at me. I was stunned by that outburst in the lobby. Granted, I know how she and Richard are not exactly fans of yours, but she took it so far. I almost looked around to find the camera crew. Didn't that out burst seem fitting of a bridal terror reality Show?!" Her attempt at levity fell flat.

Sherlock kept his eyes on their joined hands, studying how their different muscle structures bent to accommodate the connection between them.

"But it goes further than that Molly."

She turned away again.

"We are just so similar and different all at once and it makes us volatile together. When my mother died, I was so young, just two and my father had no clue what to do with a daughter. We lived in London and my only other family lived here in Hastings so we only saw each other rarely. Dad tried his best to give me a proper childhood but where most little girls like Jillian where playing Dolls and fancy dress I became interested in mechanics and construction sites and helping dad pull wires through walls after school. A Tomboy through and through. " She grimaced at the moniker.

"Aunt Ruth is a wonderful, sweet, ideal mother. She baked treats and took Jillian to ballet, did her hair in curls and on and on. I'm close with Aunt Ruth, she was the closest thing I had to a maternal influence and she would do all those things with both Jillian and I but it upset Jillian when I had her mothers attention.

"As we got older she got more and more upset when I came to visit. And she was...Jillian was beautiful, intelligent and everyone just fawned over her. My Uncle Bobby would give her anything and she eventually got her way on everything . My visits became less and less. And when I did come, Jillian would became cruel and accuse me of copying her in everything and was convinced that I was jealous of her. It never seemed to matter that we liked different things or had dissimilar interests. She would find a way to excel or surpass me at every turn. She acted as if I were a freak of nature and someone attempting to steal her life. You can imagine how it would be if we liked the same group or movie, but when it came out that we both were perusing medicine it got really bad. We didn't speak for all of our Uni years. Oh Look we're here. God I talk to much."

She pulled her hand away and grabbed some bills to pay the driver while he grabbed her bags and got out. It was surprising how quickly he missed the contact from her small hand.

After removing their belongings from the cab, he glanced around him and then up at the hill. Sherlock felt a rush of childish excitement growing in him. A Funicular! He was giddy to get on it.

"We get to take a Funicular? I haven't been on one before. Ah yes! Hastings! Of course now I remember This is Fantastic! I wanted to come here as a child however Mycroft refused and my parents always choose other destinations for us. I must have deleted my desire to try it out. We get to go up on it right?" He was almost bouncing and turned to see why Molly wasn't coming.

She was Laughing. At him. Molly Hooper was standing on the corner of a tourist attraction and laughing at him. It was indeed a sobering moment. He straightened himself and frowned at her. His severity towards her only made her laugh more.

"Sherlock! I've never seen you so happy a about something that doesn't involve homicide. It's very good to see. " She was grinning at him with no malice or ill will behind it. It wasn't in jest or to taunt him. Molly was genuinely happy to see him excited.

"Shall we?" She asked. Sherlock nodded and felt a ghost of a smile return. Oh, he knew she was happy also that the subject of Jillian was dropped, and they would be finishing that later, but for now there was a Funicular to experience.

The Funicular was an equilateral train that went up and down the side of a large hill. Hastings boasted a set of two of them. The east track that led from the water level up to where they were staying and had an exposed track on the side of the cliff and provided an excellent look out over the Stade and the Harbor. On the West hill line the view obstructed by an overheadtunnel designed to protect the track from the elements. The West, would take them up to the castle ruins at a height of 170ft at a 33% gradient on a track 500 ft long. Facts that Sherlock taught himself from the information in the walls as they walked up and into the stately entrance and in to the que to make the journey up. Molly pulled their tickets out and they were allowed to board the 16 passenger car along with several other visitors. There where empty seats so there was a small wait while they attempted to to fill the car. Settling in once again, silence surrounded them. It was neither particularly uncomfortable nor peaceful. Molly was debating on whether or not to say something. She finally gave in and spoke.

"So not a carriage?" Molly asked brightly. A low chuckle slipped out. Right. He should have thought of it first.

"Of course not Molly, it's a nod to the Early American railway system. Everyone knows that." Ah there was that half smile. He focused in on her lips as they waited. Now that he knew just what they'd feel like pressed against his he had to fight the desire to do again sitting there on a bench in the funicular. Sherlock Homes, man of international crime fighting reputation wanted to kiss his ... Molly right there on a local Hastings tourist attraction. It just wouldn't do. How many hours till he could get her alone again anyways? And then what would they...do? He gulped.

A few more tourists trickled on and the car began to move up the hill. It was a fairly smooth, liquid motion not like anything one was used to on a daily basis. Equal parts elevator and escalator with the odd mix of train car. It was also slower than Sherlock Holmes could generally stand to go. And darker too than he had imagined. He knew they were gaining height and wished to see the horizon.

As it proceeded up, Molly spoke. "Before they upgraded the track this trip would terrify me. It banged and clanged as it rose. It sounded like a roller coaster and I was just sure it was going to go tumbling down the hill. And well, I've never been that good with heights...but I think it's gotten worse since Reichenbach. " her volume had dropped with her admission.

Heights had never bothered him, not before nor since his jump. Leaping off the top of St Bart's though had not been a simple thing to accomplish. Well technically speaking it was a moderately difficult physical feat. It was an age old magic trick though. Timing and illusion. Sherlock knew seeing it happen was devastating to John and that the 'death' hadn't been easy on his other associates but why should that have bothered Molly? The Pathologist had been there. She knew what had to be done and was willing to do her part. Molly also had the benefit of knowing that he lived.

Sherlock recalled those final seconds on the roof. Looking out across the unforgiving gray ground and equally menacing grey sky, verifying all was in place in his landing area was in place and that his undercover ground crew were set to go with the aftermath.

And then he had felt it. The weight of a gaze that came from the shadows across the street. He knew it was Molly, that she was there. It was a moment of sentimental weakness, but he just said goodbye to John, had thrown his phone in preparation to jump. The time had come. So he gave in the sentimental desire he detested so much and allowed his own eyes to find her and return her gaze for a brief moment. When he discerned her small nod at him he'd taken a final breath and leapt.

"Molly, you knew of the procedures we had in place for Reichenbach. It went off without so much as a glitch. Why would you be affected still?" He queried.

"Yes, you lived. But do you know what it's like to stand by and watch someone you... Care for do something that reckless? Of course you had too. It was the right move. Yet, watching you stand on that ledge Sherlock. It broke my heart as if it were real. And I suppose it was in a way. You were gone. For so long Sherlock. " Molly was nearly whispering now but staring straight ahead of her.

Silence surrounded them. The car continued its accent. Suddenly the car flooded with light as it passed through the tunnel towards the top of the hill. The view he'd been denied of the village and harbor and Strand were all there, just as as he knew they would be. But it was good to see it all together again.

" I was. I left for far longer than I wanted to. And things changed so much while was gone. But Molly... I'm here now. We are here. Together. We have made it this far, perhaps... Well, perhaps we can make it the rest of the way together?"

Her face turned towards him immediately. His words were tantamount to a declaration. She studied him to decide whether he had meant it as such.

"Perhaps we can Sherlock. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> So that was a very emotional chapter when you are coming from Sherlock's head. Thankfully Molly has been willing to bare her soul and move the plot on. Anyway they are now established as wanting to be together. It's a big leap for them right?
> 
> I mentioned earlier that when I needed a setting for this story that I simply picked Hastings off the map. While researching it a bit I was floored to learn about the Funiculars there. And while I started this story based of the height difference created by heels, when your setting gives you something like a train car that climbs a mountain you run with it. Hopefully it works. Let me know if it doesn't.
> 
> I have to say thank you all for your reviews and favorites. It's so awesome to have people enjoy this story. Y'all's reactions to Jillian have been hilarious. Believe me she angers me too. Particularly since she is based on my own real life 'arch enemy'. Thankfully she's not my cousin (my wonderful cousin is a
> 
> doctor named Molly ) but she is just someone my family and I have been forced to be around for the past 25 years. And she is a terrible person.
> 
> I constantly wish she would move... Like to Antarctica. Since that's not happening I'm going to get some payback in this story. Yes, Ana she will get her comeuppance.
> 
> Now I'm off to write Chapter 11. All hell is about I break loose at this rehearsal dinner. I can't wait to share it with you.
> 
> Thanks and Love,
> 
> Mistykins06


	11. Higher 11

Higher 11

Day 56: 18:45 nearing sunset.

"Molly, since we are all finished let's go and -"

"There's no time for that Sherlock." Molly attempted a severe glare towards him. It wasn't menacing in the slightest.

The two had finished prepping the rehearsal tables as requested. Sherlock had rearranged the flowers into a far more becoming design then the original florist had, or more accurately an under florists who rushed the order. Now there was a wait of at least 30 minutes before the wedding party arrived. Sherlock knew just how he wanted to spend it with Molly.

"Molly, of course there is. I'll make it brief. Come with me." He swaggered closer to her as she leaned against the bar.

"Make it brief? Is that supposed to entice me Sherlock?" Ah that half-smile. Did she realize what that smile could do to him?

"I know you want to do it as much as I do." His voice dipped lower and he watched as her already flushed gave deepened as she locked her gaze on him lips.

"Of course I do, I've longed to for years, but Sherlock we need to plan this better. It will be far more special and enjoyable if we can take our time. Plan it out a bit. Right? "

Sherlock sat down beside her and pouted like an overgrown child on the stool.

Molly laughed at him. This time it annoyed rather than charmed him. He hated not getting his own way. Especially on things that would bring him such great pleasure. Part of him was glad to know that he still could be annoyed by her.

Molly grabbed him by he hand. "Come with me."

"Why should I. "'he whined.

"Sherlock, just because we don't have time to do what you want us to do doesn't mean we can't go have a little bit of fun before everyone gets here. " Molly laughed again.

He allowed a tiny smile to crack through his pout.

"And what activity are you considering for us to enjoy Ms. Hooper?"

"Find me Mr. Holmes and find out."

And Molly spun and took off.

Sherlock allowed her a few seconds head start before leaping from his chair to deduce what the petite woman had in mind to amuse him.

When the two of them had reached the top of West Hill, Sherlock's eye had immediately been drawn to an advertisement for a local attraction. Smugglers Adventure. A series of caves that had been used for centuries to bypass taxes and regulations. Of course most of the museum was a dull tourist trap full of equally dull wax dummies that were somehow needed to make the general public understand what activity went on in days of old, but still... The caves themselves were fascinating. Large enough that during its hey day a ballroom had been used for local assembly's and deep enough that it had kept 500 of Hastings residents safe from the German bombing that made further ruins of the ancient Normandy castle near where Sherlock and Molly now stood. He longed to explore. To allow his childhood ambitions of Piracy to run free once more. Part of him even hoped he might find some hidden room full of treasure in there. Adventure was calling him and he wanted to run to it.

He idly wondered if it was the location or all that was happening between Molly and himself that had him feeling so exuberant. Determining he did not care which it was he had immediately begun begging Molly to come and explore. She told him to go on his own, and he had considered it, seriously considered it in fact, but when he went to go he'd looked at Molly who was flitting about and changed his mind. It surprised him how much he wanted to experience St. Clements Caves with Molly at his side. To share their humorous observations together. He would wait for her, grudgingly yes, but he knew they both were looking forward to it exploring together.

But for now there was a certain woman he needed, no not needed. Wanted to find.

He burst through the door way of the temporary event tent, scanning his eyes right to left. Without any difficulty he noticed the indention of her small foot prints across the grass. Following them he walked a few hundred yards until the grass ended near the side of a hill. Once more he scanned horizontally for indicators of where she headed, but all he saw were mild disturbances on heavily traveled gravel. He spun around noticed a small foot path to climb the hill, and darted to take it. The narrow passage made for a slow going walk but when he made it near its turn he spotted the familiar garish pattern of Molly's dress. She was seated on a large rock and looking out over the glittering water.

Sunset was approaching and softening the sky to a creamy orange. It blended with the fading blue of the day and the deeper hue of the water below. A romantic might say it was stunning. But in truth it held nothing to Molly at this moment. Merely a nice background to his intriguing, (title to be determined) ... Molly. She was smiling a happy, private smile just to herself as she looked down at the village and sea below the bluff ever. Sherlock paused and committed to scene to memory. This was the new image he wanted of her on the hearth in His Mind Palace.

"Wasn't it not to long ago that you told me how much you dislike heights?" That her smile grew before she schooled it down gave him another rush of...something. He allowed it be named adrenaline rather than something emotional.

"Yes, well this path is a familiar one to me. I've done this bluff so many times that it doesn't seem dangerous at all. " She answered.

"The drop below the hill though... That's a bit steeper. " He rambled as he drew closer to her and her perch. "May I ?" He motioned to join her.

"Please do. "

They sat together quietly watching ships returning from their fishing. And people walking about the streets below. It reminded Sherlock of how he felt observing his beloved London from the rooftops, but life in Hastings was at a slower, quieter pace. The greater height also allowed him a greater variance of interactions. There where families loading themselves into cars, a man buying flowers on the corner, a couple arguing on the corner near the hotel they were staying. Sherlock enjoyed the multiple views, the movements of town and the peaceful calm of the water, not to mention the woman beside him. It was such a simple pleasure.

Sherlock turned to observe Molly some more and found she was studying him and not the view. Molly didn't advert her gaze, but kept it. Tight on his eyes. It was unusual behavior for her to consider him, or rather unusual in that she was so bold with it. He had felt, and ignored this heady gaze from her many times over their years of working together, once while they had solved crimes. He stayed still and allowed her to control the moment. It was a thrilling experiment.

Molly took a hand and calmly brushed a curl back that hung over his forehead. She next ran her digits softly across his eyebrows, a gentle exploration that brought every inch of his skin to attention. He allowed his eyes to close as her fingers moved whisper soft across his temple and down the line of his cheek. They dropped lower and caressed his lips. A ragged breath escaped as she ran the pad of her thumb on his lower lip.

"I've always wondered what that be like. " she said softly.

"And are you satisfied with your findings?" He breathed. Damn this was driving him crazy. Sherlock Holmes, was fairly certain he should not feel this wrecked from a simple caress but he did not want it to stop.

" Yes. No! I think I need more data and I have more variables to test before I find out if my hypothesis is correct."

His eyes opened once more. Molly Hooper, ever the scientist.

"Hypothesis? And what would that hypothesis be exactly ?" He smiled with her.

"If I learn exactly what it feels like to do that, then will I then be satisfied or will I long to do it all the more. " Molly's voice had taken a deeper, huskier quality. Her fingers moved down his chin and neck, but returned to slide up over his cheek once more.

Allowing himself to shallow and study her reactions he asked again "What are your findings so far then, Doctor?"

She pulled her eyes off the path that her fingers had traveled and spoke, "The results seem to be in line with my realization that occurred during my similar experiments when you kissed me the first time." Oh the flush on her checks and lips. " It surpassed expectations and will require further study. There are just so many variables to consider."

Molly leaned in and gave a him a sound kiss. It held no timidness or hesitation, which admittedly surprised him. The connection was strong but it wasn't deep or at all invasive. Just them connecting. Sherlock pulled her closer to his lap, a bit surprised that she pushed herself up on to it. His arms shifted and held her closer to his chest, while her own worked themselves half under one of his arms and over the other.

A soft pink tongue slid out and lapped at his lower lip. The sound of a grown reached his ear, and he wasn't at all surprised to realize that it had come from his own throat. In fact he wanted to do it again. Molly, was still moving against his lips, but had shifted closer too. The increased pressure, along with sensory memory of her straddling his lap ( had that really been just that morning) caused him instant firming. God, it would be so thrilling to explore her charming body right here on this bluff. However time was not in their favor. He needed to stop this. Fast.

"Molly."

She opened her eyes, but didn't remove her lips.

"Molly" he repeated. In a tad erhm, firmer tone this time.

She pulled back to look at him again. Although her eyes indicated that she was in a passionate haze he had her attention.

"You'll remember of course that you said we didn't have time for the Smugglers adventure, and I don't believe we have time enough explore this particular activity right now either as much as I regret that fact. " She made a tiny oh gasp and she realized how entangled their bodies had become.

" As pleasurable as I believe we both are finding..this. It will be better to wait until we have time to fully engage ourselves with it. Plan it out a bit. Make it special. And a great deal less public. Don't you agree? " He crooned her earlier placation back to her.

She jumped up off of him and patted down her dress as and began to stutter apologies to him.

"Molly." He said once more. She finally turned her eyes to his.

"You were right. That was..." Thrilling. Superb. Addictive. "Fun."

She gave him a calm, intimate smile as he rose.

"We'd better get back though. They will be here soon."

With one final embrace, he motioned for her to lead on and they made there way back to the tent.

It was only moments after they had stored their coats that the first guests arrived. Sherlock slipped into a corner where he could observe but not be noticed by the arriving guests and Molly gritted her teeth and stood at the door greeting family and acquaintances on behalf of her cousin. The tent filled with voices and waiters began filling drinks and passing horderves.

The space filled quickly and Sherlock quickly was reminded of all that he had been dreading about this trip. Strangers. They were everywhere. Laughing inanely. Talking overtop of each other. Downing drink after drink... Actually that wasn't such a bad idea. He sauntered to the line to the bar. How long till he could escape? Surely he could just slip out side and wait till dinner was over. He'd spend the evening outside, just slip back to the bluff Molly showed him earlier and wait till she was ready to go back to their inn. There were always emails to check with idiotic cases so simple Anderson could solve them. It had been a far to long since he had pestered Mycroft after all. Next he'd text John about forgiving Mary some more. Text Mary about status of her womb's occupant. Normal diversions. His turn to order and he asked for a scotch and a glass of Chardonnay for Molly.

Taking the wine to her he found her speaking to an older tall gentleman. Uncle, he guessed. A woman who Molly greatly favored stood between the two. None of the trio looked particularly happy, and he saw Molly's dark eyes fill with guilt and flash over at him. She murmured something to them as he approached.

"So this is him then." Uncle with a boring common name. Prominent in the local government, therefore full of self importance which is ridiculous, child's play after assisting Myroft. Clearly thinks that he should be intimidated by him. Not going to happen.

Sherlock handed Molly her wine and saw out of the corner of his eye as she took a heathy sip of it.

"Sherlock Holmes. Yes. And you are?"

The man stood taller while the older woman tilted her head in a way that instantly connected her to her vile daughter. His respect was dwindling rapidly toward the couple. Molly took another sip.

"I am Robert Collins, father of the bride. This is my wife Ruth, Molly's aunt. And as you, sir have yourself have gained entrance through forcing my niece to allow you to join her for whatever convoluted reason you have derived I believe we are owed an explanation. Care to explain yourself?"

"Hmm. Nope." Sherlock smirked, although politely.

He watched Molly's aunt turn to give her niece a silent chastisement and Molly's answering sip. The Chardonnay was almost gone already.

Molly's aunt continued her silent communication with her niece, then turned to speak to him. "We'll Mr. Holmes, as Molly's... guest you are welcome . I'm sure Molly appreciates having a friend by her side this weekend as its sure to be a difficult one for her. I trust you will have an enjoyable time together."Aunt Ruth's pointed glare as far more effective than her nieces. He nodded once in understanding.

"Ah here's Jillian and Richard now. I'll grab the microphone. Bob you will make the introductions yes? Now go join the other bridesmaids Molly. " With one last clear look at Sherlock Aunt Ruth moved to get every thing prepped. Molly tossed back the remains of her glass and handed it to him. Avoiding his eyes. How where they back to that already?

Drinking from his scotch he took a seat at their assigned table. So much for skipping out on the rehearsal dinner now.

"Ladies, gentleman, our honored guests. On behalf of the Billing and Collins families we welcome you to the rehearsal dinner. It is a privilege to introduce to you, for the last time, Mr Richard Billings and his fiancé, my darling daughter Dr. Jillian Collins"

The party around him applauded and lauded the couple. The bride came in glowing with radiant smiles and waved to family and friends gathered around the room. She resembled a woman on a pageant stage who had just received a title and was now parading her victory. He doubted this was anything less than what she saw her marriage to be. A title.

The groom was immaculately dressed and had a charming smile as he waved to those gathered around the room. Richard Billings was an up and coming lawyer who had high political ambitions that required him to subscribe to the old world habits of obtaining a suitable wife, despite the fact that his affections lie with those of his own sex. A handsome, solid man he and Jillian made a striking couple together. They completely embodied the term 'power couple' in appearance of not in the bedroom.

Three more sets of couples were introduced all of non importance. Classic friends from childhood and higher education, all who had been chosen to amplify the main couples good looks. Finally Molly came in as her Uncle announced her and her corresponding Groomsman a man who looked just like...

Meat Dagger.

"Here we have our niece Molly Hooper escorted by Mr. Tom Abernathy!" Molly looked pale and ready to kill. Tom looked pleased as punch and smiled a charming smile as he held her hand to his arm.

It looked like Molly would be walking down the aisle with her former Fiancé after all.

Well Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> Oh but I did. Tom is back and Jillian, Nasty Bitch as I have been informed is her proper title has insisted they be paired together. Hmm, why I wonder? This Chapter was so much fun to write. I apologize for it taking longer to get out to you, but we have been celebrating a lot of family things, and my writing time has been sparse. But its all over and I'm off now to work out the next chapter. If I can get these damn one shots out of my head... But I will be focusing on Higher primarily.
> 
> Thank you to for your comments and all the kudos. They always amaze and help me, so thank you once again. If you are on Tumblr feel free to find me ( Same user name ), I sometimes post teasers and snippets of the chapters or one shots.


	12. Higher 12

Higher 12

Day 56: 20:35 Dinner is served.

With the appearance of Tom 'meat dagger' Abernathy, the evening took a dramatic turn. The optimistic, carefree attitude that Molly and himself had shared this afternoon vanished and was replaced by a palpable tension that was nearly electric. Something bad was about to happen.

After the introductions had been made to the crowd, Molly made her way back to their table. Sherlock watched her cross and sit down while he finished off his drink. He had the distinct impression he was going I be needing several others before the night was through.

"You didn't know he'd be here did you?" She shook her head no. Clearly far to upset to speak.

They sat quietly while dinner was served to them, although neither touched the fish before them. Several other couples sat by them but thank the Lord for small mercies they all had enough common sense to leave them alone. He spent the quiet watching warily over Molly and the other studying the movements of Tom as he socialized from one group or another.

The man had changed from the last time that he had seen him at the Watson's wedding. A new faded haircut had replaced his springy curls, a better fitted more modern suit gave him a broader appearance, and an additional confident comfortable manner all lead up to a 'new' Tom. He was bouncing back from a broken engagement tremendously well.

Molly on the other hand looked ready to run away. Clearly seeing an ex at an event was uncomfortable for anyone, but the normally sunny pathologist who would probably find the bright side of a catastrophic disaster looked unbearably miserable.

"The rehearsal... That's why they made you come up here instead of attending. So you wouldn't know about Tom." She didn't say anything, just continued to hold her mouth tightly closed while her eyes that avoided his own spoke of the series of emotions that she was feeling: Anger, hatred, hurt, and sadness mixed with ...fear? What was she afraid of?

Something was missing. There was something vital that everyone else here knew but him. A series of suspicions began to enter his mind, but before he found his answer a shadow crossed over him.

"We'll hello Sherlock! Glad to see you here mate." Tom Abernathy sat himself down at the suddenly and rather coincidently empty chair beside him.

"Tom," was all Sherlock managed to get out. An awkward silence overtook them. After a thorough, vile throat clearing Tom spoke.

"Where are two staying? They've

got me up with the Groomsman at the main house. But I haven't seen you there with the bridesmaids Molly. I thought that odd, but since they said you were here with a Date... Well I guess given the circumstances that makes sense now." He smiled rather kindly. The gesture make him Look a bit simple though to Sherlock.

"Tom, why the hell are you a groomsman still!?" Moly hissed out suddenly.

"What do you mean Molly? You were there when Richard asked me." He was so clueless. How had she put up with him for so long?

"I mean that we are over, why would you still be here. In this godforsaken wedding. As a fucking Groomsman Tom. What the hell are you thinking?"

Sherlock watched her. He'd been the source and target of Molly's anger frequently in the past and this was a whole new level. This was nearly murderous. The slaps she'd given after his relapse looked like child's play compared to the anger that was about to be released on Thomas Abernathy.

Clearly offended, Tom answered. "Well, you know Richard and I just got on so well. We did a few things together here and there while you and I were ehm, well you know..but we've gotten pretty close. I mean we're good friends now. He's been an incredibly supportive friend Molly. Rich even got me a position at his firm. You know how much I hated my last job at the bank. So why shouldn't I be friends with him? And why shouldn't I be a groomsman?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. After all he could name several reasons why...

"Because he's marrying MY cousin Tom! Didn't you think of how awkward this would be for me?" Molly snapped it out. Her vocal chords straining back against her desire to tell, but not cause a scene. Only Molly would care a about that at this moment. A strained silence flooded the table.

"No," Tom shook his head, barely meeting her stare. "No, Molly. I never even thought of you at all."He pinked up a bit as he admitted it, probably only then realizing just how bad it sounded. Tom had the grace though to at least look chastised.

However, the damage was done. That was probably the worst thing could have said to his former fiancé. Molly looked instantly sick and pale from it. She stood abruptly and mumbled something incoherent and nearly ran off toward the loo. The urge to stab the idiot seated next it him with he closest piece of cutlery was overwhelming. He burned with the urge to do so.

Sherlock was left stating at Tom and Tom at him while he decided just how much he could get away with against the groomsman.

"So you and Molly then? Glad that finally happened. I'm happy for her, really I am. Well, and you too of course."

He couldn't be serious could he?

"I'm sorry what?" Sherlock managed to hiss out.

"You're here with Molly. You two finally got together after all right? Oh Hell, this is awkward. The ex and the new boyfriend chatting it up. " Tom the fool laughed. He actually laughed. Sherlock merely stared at the idiotic fool harder. If he knew what numerous thoughts Sherlock Holmes was having about injuring him he would be running back to London, instead Tom settled down further.

"So how's that friend of yours John the still in the honeymoon phase?" Tom winked at Sherlock. If they'd been closer he probably would have nudged him with his elbow. Which probably would have resulted in Tom needing his jaw wired shut plus additional head injuries. It wasn't an unappealing thought exactly.

Sherlock continued to stare at Tom. He subconsciously toyed with a fork on the table, watching as Tom gulped while his eyes stayed riveted to it. He then stood abruptly nearly sending his chair spilling behind him.

"Christ, you two really are made for each other!" And he backed away from his 'rival' without so much as another word. Ah, that was much better. One threat minimized, at least for now. Now to find out what Molly was hiding. Which turned out to be ridiculously easy.

He stood and crossed the tent to join her where a he was standing in the corner behind an ornamental divider, the edge of her dress giving away her rather obvious hiding spot. As he approached though he heard the sound of heavy, angry whispering. Years of eavesdropping allowed him the ease of hearing it all while he also checking his phone. 4 texts from John, 2 from Lestrade, oh God 7 from Mary all asking how it was going and several other regular reporters from his homeless network. All the while he listened to the argument quietly ensuing behind him.

"If you would just l-" Molly pleased quietly.

"I am not changing a thing Molly Hooper! I have over one hundred hand calligraphed programs saying you will be escorted down the aisle by Tom, and I will not change it! How could you even ask? It's my one day Molly, my once in a lifetime day and you will do anything to ruin it, won't you?" Of course. All problems lead back to Jillian. The impossible to please bridezilla. Amazing how she could make his ears want to bleed with a whisper.

Molly spoke, her voice thick and broken from crying. "Jillian, I just can't do it. Please, please... Anyone else. I can't. I can't!" Sherlock couldn't take hearing Molly, his brave pathologist hurting like that. He had to take action.

Bursting around the corner starling both women he spoke "Ah Molly, I've been looking for you. Your fish is growing cold and I know how you hate cold fish. But I should have known you'd be getting caught up on all you missed from the rehearsal. Rearranging escorts and what not. What a careless oversight that! Really, forgetting that you had assigned Tom to escort your cousin for the festivities. Easily rectified however. A simple switch and all is amended and forgiven right?" Sherlock gave Jillian a hopeful charming smile that had helped him get his way far more than not.

A flabbergasted Jillian stared at him a moment before going on attack. "Are you a fan of sneaking up to other peoples conversations? Is that how you do your 'remarkable' detective work Mr. Holmes? What a joke you are. A complete joke. If you had paid the slightest bit of attention you would might have noticed all of our other attendants are all married to one another. It would be ridiculous to place them opposite one another. Tom and Molly are the ONLY option for one another and they WILL be walking together." The bride no longer had the grace to whisper.

Sherlock no longer attempted to smile his false charm. His eyes narrowed at her as he cut to the chase.

"Tsk,tsk. I can't help but wonder, are you hoping for, or fearing a reconciliation between the two of them during your nuptials? Because I can assure you that won't be happening despite your best efforts to make Tom jealous enough to try to go after Molly. Perhaps your plan would have worked, had I not come with her. You really should have insisted she come alone instead of berating her to bring an obviously unnecessary escort by the way. However, as a result I have agreed to accompany her, and now I can assure you completely that Tom will not want to be within 15 feet of her thanks to me, so I advise you to change your ordering lest your desire truly is to have your once on a lifetime march down the aisle end in a physical altercation." He spoke low and forcibly. He knew Molly was unfamiliar with this side of him, but she was clearly not surprised to see it in action. In fact she was fighting a tiny smile at him. Oh, she was clearly appreciating him standing up for her, or that he was obviously jealous of Tom. That would have to be examined at some point in feature. Now though it was time to drive the point home with Jillian.

"Either way it seems you've built-in quite the elaborate scapegoat in your cousin. How convenient for you to have someone to blame no matter what happens. It appears to me that you clearly want your wedding day to be memorable, just so long as people don't focus to much on yourself and your... Beloved."

Jillian blanched at him and looked slightly guiltily towards Molly before quickly regrouping and focusing on him again. She never even bothered to deny his allegations. That was a was at least a little bit refreshing.

"We will not be altering plans Mr Holmes. End of story. And I would like to recall out earlier conversation where I told you to not try anything. As you've discovered I'm marrying a man who is a promising brilliant lawyer. I would make sure you had the papers served to you even before you returned to London Mr. Holmes." Jillian turned to walk away but stopped and returned to speak with Molly one last time.

"Molly, I don't want to hear another word about this. I have far more important matters to attend too. It's not my fault you let your sham of a relationship collapse. I'm only asking you to stand beside Tom with your mouth shut and a smile plastered on your god damn face. After years and months of lying to him that should be easy to for you to do after all. " With that she stomped off leaving a once again broken Molly and an utterly furious Sherlock. Something had to be done. A plan began to unfold in his mind.

"Molly, stay here till your feel calmer." And he strode away without another glance or word.

Over the years he had played a lot of mind games with a lot of dubious people. They also liked to use his friends against him. But Jillian wasn't after him. In fact the tables were turned completely. He was being used to get to Molly. And who the hell kept a vendetta against Molly Hooper?

He quickly thought up just what he needed to do to get to Jillian, who much to his chagrin was a decently formidable foe. Oh, not it the typical sense but she knew just the right pressure points to attack Molly, who mattered to him. She was also the darling of the weekend. Every person here sought the attention of the bride. They also would do anything to assure her happiness. Right and wrong meant nothing if it made the bride not yell and scream. Sherlock needed tack and to put her in her place. He studied the 'blushing' bride ( far to much wine already, on the way to getting spectacularly drunk at this rate) she was showing signs of irritation toward her flippant intended who seemed to be farther down the line to intoxication then herself. Richard was currently allowing his eyes to follow the rear view of a waiter as he spoke to an older woman ( his grandmother). He was being sloppy, but it wasn't his place to 'out' the man. No, he needed something to target Jillian alone... One little detail. One weakness... Ah. Right. Her weakness was rather obvious and tremendously vulnerable.

Molly had yet to make her appearance again and he wanted to check on her, but not now. Now was the time to strike. He strode over to the table where the microphone lay alone and vulnerable and grabbed it along with a flute of champagne. With a gentle clang against the crystal he called for attention from the crowd.

The confused crowd looked at him with surprise and some excitement. Murmurs of his name were circulating and gaining everyone's attention. Several of the closet family members however displayed clear disdain and apprehension. We'll at least they knew who he was. Clearing his throat he began.

"Ah yes, good evening ladies and gentleman. It is a pleasure to be here with you tonight to kick off this wedding celebration between and Richard and the lovely Julia. It's so wonderful to meet a couple so in synch with one another. A couple that have a level, honest head on them. So, I thought it would be a capital idea to start the evening off with a toast. To Richard and Julia, May your union be as strong as the passion you have for one another. I do look forward to seeing just how spectacularly you will shine together, united against the challenges in the future." He smiled a false, sweet innocent smile as most of the older generation simmered, while the younger bridesmaids looked at each other in disbelief, then raised his glass in toast and locked eyes against the furious Jillian as the crowd mumbled a hesitant 'to Richard and J-. " they seemed split on what to say, causing a garbled sound of confusion rather than the brides name.

His move was so ridiculous, so unanticipated and quite unbelievably effective. Jillian seethed as politely as she could but couldn't cover her embarrassment. It was a petty act but one that was designed to be subtle and effective enough to work. Jillian Collins biggest fear and insecurity was not her sham of a relationship, no it far more personal and lingering from an average, mediocre childhood. It was not being memorable.

Sherlock raised his glass as he met her eyes after he drank the entire flute and set down his glass and microphone and made his way back to the partition where he had left Molly. It was empty and there was no sign of her anywhere. Various people were starting to surround him with idiotic comments on his unfortunate faux pas on confusing the brides name or fanatics who only wished to comment on his more illustrious cases. It was easy enough to fake apologies and excuses as he had just met her that day. The guests willingly forgave him, lost in the excitement of seeing a celebrity. No one even asked who he was here with. He made his way to various spots, seeing Tom laughing at the bar with Richard, the aunt and uncle speaking with guests. Forgettable bridesmaids and groomsman speaking to one another liberally enjoying the free bar. No Molly however, and no Jillian. That didn't settle well with him. He had to find Molly immediately. And before Jillian did.

Quickly he proceeded out the tent and attempted to guess where Molly had gone. There were no new path toward the bluff so she was somewhere else. As he rounded the corner of the tent a soft, voice followed him.

"I've always heard Molly say just how brilliant you are at finding and exploiting a persons flaws. I truly had hoped to never be on the receiving end of your scathing observations Mr. Holmes."

"You aren't going to try to play the victim card with me now, are you Jillian?"

"Oh so you do know my name after all. Well done then, I suppose." She walked towards him, giggling and stumbling once. She must have taken a shot or two after his speech to settle herself down and was much further down the path to complete inebriation. "I did wonder how you would go about it. In truth though, I expected something flashier and far more scathing. But then I guess we all fear our secrets being exposed. And you do know them don't you Mr. Holmes? All my deep, dark, dirty secrets are open to you. I've got nothing to hide from you then do I? Nothing at all... " she smiled a satisfied, secret smile. " I suppose I should thank you though... About not using Richard against me."

"His... story is not mine to share. I've been told that people don't like someone to point out the obvious when it comes to sexual preference." Sherlock said calmly. He was still looking for signs of Molly, but finding nothing. Jillian came a few steps closer to him.

"That's kind of you. Very generous, considering all the ways my 'dear' cousin has told us you've burnt people in the past. Didn't you once tell her flat out that one of her ex's was gay? And another time how unattractive she is by commenting on her chest size! I completely agreed by the way, she's always shared the physic of a 12-year-old boy but I just laughed it off then. Figured it was just Molly being Molly, exaggerating things again." Now she leaned in towards him, a hand drifting up to his chest. "I find it hard to believe sometimes all the horrible things she's said over the years about you. You are just so... Perfect." She was slurring and purring her words out, clearly not paying any regard to how he'd stiffened and was attempting to move away even as she kept stroking his chest muscles. Sherlock felt dread pool in his stomach. Not this. How is he supposed to get out of this easily?Jillian wouldn't hesitate a moment to stoop this low as to attempt seduce him or worse, to make allegations against hum to upset Molly. She wouldn't hesitate to draw attention and let the blame fall on Molly for bringing him. It was time for crucial deflection.

"You've had quite a lot to drink haven't you? We should get you back inside before your missed. Everybody wants to wish you well after all."

"Not nearly as much as I want to drink actually. But if you want to slip in and get us something delicious to drink and bring it back, I'd love to see what we could get into out here, just you and I." She crooned suggestively. It bothered him that the smile reminded him of one he'd seen on Molly before when she found him extremely attractive. He shook the comparison out of his mind. Just because the two of them shared some unavoidable DNA didn't mean they were the same.

"Oh, I can think of so much I'd rather be doing, diving off the cliff on to those rocks for example." He let out in a darker tone then intended.

Oh, he said the wrong thing, or perhaps it was the right thing because Jillian completely transformed from her stumbling and slurring act, back to her former level of sobriety. The minx should have been an actress. Her brown eyes flashed and burned with hurt and anger at his spurning her, but she quickly hid it as she smiled a tiny hard smile.

"Ah, now that's more the type of barb I expected. Ever willing to show just how little you regard someone. You know, it's strange Mr. Holmes, but I also remember Molly saying you don't do dating or relationships a few years back. It was a shock to meet you here as her date."

"Escort." He retorted, more out of habit than denial.

"Right. And the reason traces of her lipstick are on your lips is what then? You drank after her I suppose? But then there was all that salacious news of your relationship with that one rather busty girl, she had quite the fascinating tale to tell of your time together. Have you moved on from one brunette to another? It would appear you have a certain type Mr. Holmes."

Well damn. She was winning points by showing she was far more clever than he first gave her credit for. Clearly the intelligence ran on the maternal side of the family. He resisted the urge to wipe at his mouth guiltily, but just barely. Perhaps he did have a type after all. It couldn't be coincidence that all of his interest had ever been on lovely, intellectually stimulating brunettes after all. But not matter how clever Jillian was, or how conventionally lovely she would never be anything more than an ugly annoyance to him. All illusions of beauty were ruined the moment she had first opened her vile, stupid mouth to hurt Molly. It was a terrible move on her part if this had been her end game move against him.

"Jealous Jillian that I don't find you attractive? After all if I do tend to have a weak spot for intelligent dark haired woman then you should fit the bill nicely, right?" He asked, with a wry smile." But I will never, ever be attracted to to you. There is one trait I find rarely and one that I could never even consider being close to someone without. Trust.

And you, Jillian you would do anything to manipulate anyone. Your manipulating almost the entire crowd in there just to give off an illusion of happiness. But that's all it is. And you are just finding that settling is not as easy as you thought it be then. Grasping for straws to get out the night before?"

Jillian bristled and straightened herself up, ready to attack again.

"I know myself and I am honest with myself about what I am getting into. Richard knows me and respects me. We share hobbies and tastes and friends and we at least care about one another. We are open books to the other, we will never have to pretend for the other. He will have a wife to act as hostess, social companion and a mother for his children, while I get the family of course, and get to live the suburban life I've always longed for without the worry that I'll lose him to another woman. We have the understanding that all extramarital physical affairs will be discreet and non threatening. It's a-typical arrangement, but comfortable for us. There is nothing I'm settling on. Nothing. We get it all." She was smiling, not a joyful expression but a triumphant one indeed. Jillian Collins had won whatever convoluted race she was convinced she was in.

"Yes, your domestic felicity is clearly assured. But will you be able to look at yourself in the mirror in a years time and be so honest with yourself?"

Amused she replied, "I never took you to be worried about someone's need for sentiment. Aren't you quoted as believing it a defect in human nature?" Jillian paused a moment but nodded. "Honestly though, yes I do. The ending is the same no matter who I marry. I'll be just as happy as I might be with anyone else." It was a lie. They both knew it too.

He looked at her closely, turning his head a bit at the puzzle the presented.

"Oh it is quite true that I have little regard for sentiment. However, I do not belittle it as I once have. It is after all, a powerful motivator. Humans go to extraordinary lengths to protect, obtain or avenge it. I come across the murdered victims of it quite frequently."

"And then go play with them along with my cousin." She sneered. Like many others she was uncomfortable around a dead body. That was probably a large factor why she worked in the research field of medicine rather than in a practice. Her cousin however had a terrible bedside manner that made her far more comfortable working with the deceased.

"Your cousin is an asset to my work." He intoned once again more out of habit than it being the truth. Molly was infinitely more than a work assistant.

"Oh I'm sure she is. You need someone who is willing to do anything to make you look good. How often have you used her? Called her in on her off days? Made her stay late, ruined your dates with ridicules demands on her. Oh and of course persuading her to falsify records and lie for years about it. Is that why your here? To make it up to her?" She accused.

"Oh come off it Jillian. You are jealous of her and it's getting old. You hate how similar you are but right now you might want to take a note from your cousin. Molly is who she is. She makes no apologies. You however are buried under all these layers of what you should and could be. Just look at what your doing to achieve your so called goals."

"Be like Molly? Are you insane?" She shrieked.

"Why are you scared you won't measure up to her?" Sherlock challenged.

"Why would I want to measure to a lonely freak who plays with dead things and drug addicts. A lying, manipulative freak who takes a lonely man and tried to make him into her a body double of her so called dead crush until her dead crush Is suddenly not so very dead at all. Which, surprise! She knew all along." Jillian retorted.

"Oh no, you'd rather allow your self to marry a man who you aren't even sleeping with, who right now do wondering when or if he can get into that same lonely mans pants!" He stopped and stared at her. "You know, I can't believe it but I almost pity you."

Jillian looked completely taut with tension and ready to explode. The final nerve had been struck. "Don't you dare go to that level with me. Don't you treat me like some weak fool. " She seethed at him.

"You can't stand to be pitied? The situation is pitiful you know. Poor Jillian. How tragic it is that she married him and had her heart broken thus. You know it, or he will come out. It always ends badly. " Sherlock predicted. "That's why you are so angry and jealous of Molly. At least she had the courage to walk away from a bad choice to end it before it was to late. You were jealous of her engagement now you are so determined to beat her to the insane goal of the marriage alter that you have set that you won't end it. You have to be the perfect Bride. It drove you mad that Poor Little Molly managed to become engaged before you so you went to your friend Richard, discussed your mutual desire to wed and here we are. You've paid your piper and now it's time to dance." It was all laid out now.

Jillian was staring at him, but her head reflected no anger, instead she looked triumphant, as if she had won something precious. The grin on her face sent a chill of apprehension down his back.

"Wait. You mean to tell me that you think I'm jealous of how Molly and Tom ended things? Do you truly not know?" She was nearly giddy.

"Know what? Molly realized he was a fool all right, and ended her engagement. End of story." Right? His mind suddenly refused to assure him.

Jillian laughed again. "Oh you stupid man. How did you miss it?" Sherlock stood immobile. He he felt that he knew what she was going to say, but he wanted to hear any explanation but the truth.

"Molly never ended it with Tom. He was the one who left her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Hey look an update!
> 
> I want to apologize for this random month delay. Id like to say that I've been busy ( I have) and that life came up ( it didn't help that's for sure) but to be completely honest writing this chapter made me extremely uncomfortable. I apparently hate tension which meant that I spent a lot of time freaking out after all this calling out. It took forever for coherent thoughts and phrasing to come together. I hope you enjoyed how Jillian got brought down a bit. She is such a terrible person and It's been so tempting to shove her off the cliff. So, so tempting.
> 
> I also want to say sorry for the supper light Molly content in this chapter. I cant really see her as a person who would show off her emotions out in public though. We share that her and I. But i can say that we will have lots of interaction with her in 13.
> 
> In the mean time of hiding my feelings while writing this, I got side tracked on The Pursuit of the Ideal and its been really helpful in my goal to write each day. It has only 2 more chapters and that will be finished, but I am dedicated to hitting my weekly goal again from now on. If I don't however feel free to motivate me on Tumblr.
> 
> Oh! Thank you's! Ya'll are amazing. I can't tell you how many times I've read them and pushed myself because of your words
> 
> I've missed you all!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opps. I never added these chapters from FF. Please forgive me, and chapter 15 is nearly done.

Higher 13

Day 56. 22:00hrs.

When John Watson asked Sherlock Homes to be his best man, the great consulting detective lost all capabilities of speech for several minutes only to be brought back to reality by the doctor's calling his name. 

After Jillian Collins dropped her bomb of truth on him though, she disappeared (elated no doubt) leaving Sherlock Holmes to analyze how he could have not known that Molly hadn't been the one to end her relationship with her moronic fiancé. 

Sherlock knew they'd met about five months into his mission to destroy all traces of The Spiders web at a pub for a celebration of some mutual friends engagement. That they had bonded quickly finding themselves thrown together for more celebratory obligations as a groomsman and bridesmaid. The relationship became official at the wedding when Molly had been feeling extremely aware of her single status and the interest that the bright eyed man shown her. 

From there Molly had quickly allowed herself to be taken over by his life. Tom's friends. Tom's sweet family that welcomed her so lovingly. Her old life was full of sadness and loneliness and with Tom she kept herself so busy that she didn't allow herself to think about how much she hated wasting weekends in the same booth at the same pub with the same boring people talking about their boring jobs and lives.

No one asked about Molly's. Too vile and morbid compared to teaching at schools and office work. No, she just sat and pretended that she fit in. As long as Molly reminded herself that this was he future she had always wanted complete with family and an adult relationship with a loving dependable man then she was almost happy with dull holidays and predictable weeks and equally predictable weekends. It all fell together as Tom proposed rather drunkenly at the pub after one late evening and she gladly excepted. It was all she had ever wanted after all. 

And it had worked. She told herself that she was happy and she truly believed she was. All thoughts of her former infatuation were banished as to dangerous lest she slip up and tell his secret, and the crazy adventures it contained with late night calls to run tests and a handsome, commanding man who used of her flat and ate her food without asking and all the other parts that went along with being close to Sherlock Holmes. 

She was happy. Molly Hooper had moved on. That was until Sherlock had returned at least. Suddenly it was if she had woken up from a long nap, unsure and ill at ease with where she was and how she'd gotten there. Sherlock could tell that she wasn't as happy as she imagined herself to be, but had known that she was much more likely to have the future she'd always wanted with an idiot like Tom. Above all he'd wanted her to be happy and if a boring man and a boring life did that he wasn't going to keep her from it. No matter how different he wished the circumstances were. 

Sherlock had known to that Molly had fought the return of her affections for him. He'd watched her hold a finger on the ring on her hand far to often when they spoke. Felt the weight of her gaze as they'd spoken and worked together that was far to long to be anything but attraction. There had even been a moment when he looked at her during his best man speech where he would have sworn she decided to end it. He had assumed that was why she didn't follow or call him afterwards. She was ending it. 

 

And the when he came into the lab, high he had noticed that the ring was missing and all signed of it ever having been there were fading. Even though he'd beef found high, smacked and scolded. Suffered through Janine's advances and Magnussen's mind games, ah yes and Mary's bullet it was still a good day. All because if that missing ring. Regret flooded him at the thought of how when Molly had finally become unattached once more necessity had called for him to not be. How different could their path had been if Magnussen's case not come up?

But he had been wrong about Molly's choice. 

What happened? Who would know? Perhaps John had just forgotten to tell him. He pulled his phone and sent a quick to text him. 

When was Molly's engagement ended? -SH 

A moment later the response followed by others. 

Christ how should I know? -JW

Why are you asking me Sherlock. Why not ask her?- JW

What awful thing did you say to her? What's happened? - JW

Tom's here. - SH

Why is he there? -JW

He's a groomsman. More specifically Molly's groomsman.- SH

Well that's Shit for luck.- JW 

Is he trying to win her back then?- JW

No, apparently he was the one who left her. -SH 

Wait, What?! -JW 

How's Molly with all this. - JW

A wreck. Be proud. It's not my fault. -SH

It's not your fault THIS time Sherlock. -JW 

There's a first time for everything I suppose. -JW 

But why are you asking me what happened? Why not ask Molly? -JW

All she said earlier was that it was a fight about me. I will ask her. When I find her. She's sort of missing at the moment. Keep up. -SH

I'm in London you bastard.- JW. 

Stop texting me then and go find her.-JW

Sherlock tuned again to see of he could see her when another alert sounded. 

Molly said it wasn't your fault, but they broke up after a fight about you? Think that's l there is or could Molly be covering something up?-JW

And how the hell did we miss something like that? - JW

I was recovering from a near death trauma. What's your excuse?- SH

I was trying to recover from your near death trauma that my wife caused! -JW 

Sorry that other peoples social statuses weren't high on my list of priorities at the time. -JW

Forgive her John. I've said it 100 times already. I have. She did what she thought she had to to protect herself, you and your unborn child. Get over it. - SH

Knowing John wasn't going to respond to that he tucked his phone back on his suit jacket and looked back at the event tent. He still was missing the why, when and where and was going to have to gather more data. 

When he entered back into the tent his eyes quickly found Molly speaking to her family in low tones and while her cheeks held a great deal of color she seemed far calmer than they had previously. Quickly her eyes flashed up on him and she beamed a broad smile at him before schooling her looks and speaking quietly to her aunt. She made her excuses and came over to him. With a subtle tug she managed to slip her arm through his and pulled him down to so she could whisper in his ear. 

"Ah here you are! I was wondering where you had gotten off too. According to my Aunt and Uncle I'm supposed to be chastising you for what you did during your speech. However, I enjoyed the look on Jillian's face far to much to even think of it. Thank you." Her lips lightly grazed his ear in what others might assume was an accident. Sherlock felt his eyes drift shut for a fraction of a second before remembering that he needed to speak with her. 

Turning to look at Molly he said. "Outside now. We need to talk." Quickly concern washed over her face and Sherlock noted how she set her jaw a bit but she said nothing. 

They walked out into the cooling night and Sherlock did his best to avoid her gaze and calm he felt as he felt her small hand slide down his arm to clutch his fingers reassuringly. He pulled his hand away and turned to study her. 

"Tell me what happened?" He demanded quickly. 

Molly looked slightly confused by the question but shook it away after only a moment began to speak. " Oh well Aunt Ruth cornered me after the speech and warned me not to let you out of my sight again. I reassured her that you are really terrible with names and that we have a mutual friend who you still call the wrong name every time you see him. She seemed to buy it and let us off... This time- well after I 'put you in your place' according my Aunt's wishes." She stopped and looked at him closer . "What is it? Is there a case? Why do you look almost... Almost scared Sherlock?"

Allowing himself to shake off the ridiculous claim he asked again more directly. "With Tom, Molly. What happened between you and Tom? That long story you mentioned, I need to hear it. And now. "

Moll froze and her high color drained from her face. "Oh." No further explanation came out she just kept her eyes on him as she began to look hurt. 

"Molly..." Sherlock spoke in an almost desperate voice. 

With a resolved deep breath, Molly began to speak. "We had a fight. It late at night after Mary and John's wedding and I was drunk. Really drunk. I... Said something I shouldn't have and Tom got upset and we argued and then Tom asked for the ring back. " Molly said in a rush but she wouldn't meet his eyes. She was hiding something. 

"You said this afternoon that it was about me. Why does your family think I am to blame for Tom leaving you?"

"You are not to blame!" Molly nearly shouted then, and closed her eyes tightly to avoid his gaze. "It was nothing you did. Nothing at all." A few guests who has been lingering outside having a smoke turned and looked at them. The both glared at the nosey men until they extinguished their cigarettes and made their way back to the tent.   
She began again after the guest were far enough away to be out of hearing range. "Look Sherlock, it doesn't really matter what happened. I promise you that what was said-" 

"But it does!" Sherlock exploded. "It does matter." It shouldn't, but it mattered to him. It mattered a great deal. 

"Why?"

"Whatever it was matters a great deal to your family." He lied easily. Molly however wasn't fooled however. 

She looked at him incredulously and asked sarcastically, "You care that much what my family's option on of you is?" 

"I couldn't care less what they think of me. What I want to know is why Bloody Tom was the one to end it and not you Molly." He said firmly. He watched as Molly processed what was really bothering him. 

"Sherlock what are you asking me." Molly said is a calm low tone. 

Sherlock's mind was reeling. Every instinct he had wanted to run, far away and pretend none of this ever happened but he knew the damage was done. They had to fix this or let it poison their... Whatever they were in the way to being. A dozen different questions flashed into his mind. What had been said to start the fight? How had she even been considering matrimony to the fool? Why would she try to be with someone who had been such a poor copy of himself? 

"Where you really going to marry him? If he hadn't ended the engagement would you still be engaged to him today" He asked quietly but directly. 

Molly's eyes traveled over his face taking in his earnest, and raw need. He knew she understood the real question he'd been asking. Was she intending on ending it and why hadn't she been the one to end it sooner. 

"Why do you care? Does it really even matter Sherkock?" She questioned. 

"Don't try and act coy Molly. Where you planning on still marrying Tom?" He demanded. 

"No. Of course not!" 

"Then why in god's name weren't you he one to end it?" It was THE question that mattered most. Because surely she knew or at least guessed that he 

"You are angry that I didn't end it? What difference does it make Sherlock?"

"Because you didn't do it! You didn't make that choice Molly."

Molly stared at him. "Do you not want me now that I'm someone's cast off ?" She asked 

"No. I mean, no!" His brow twisted in confusion. Why were these things so much trouble? How could she not get what he was saying, as surely it was sound logic. Women!

Silence surrounded them. 

"That Sherlock. That right there is why I didn't do it Sherlock."

"That's not what I meant Molly-I" 

"No, I think that's exactly what you meant." She accused. 

"Molly-"

"Was this just about pity with you? Oh, you could handle being here with me when you thought you were making up to me for God only knows what. Throwing the poor single girl a few kisses to make her feel better about being her pity date. Or are your trying to prove how unhappy id be with anyone less that you?"

"That's not it. None of it." 

"Then what!?" She yelled. 

He stared at her. 

"You said you didn't want me here Molly". He paused. "Would you have called him?"

"What?"

"Tom, would you have asked Tom to be your date if i had not of offered to come."

"No! Of course not. I never want to see that arse again." She paused and grabbed Sherlock's hand. "If I wanted to be with Tom, I'd be with Tom. But I'm not and I don't don't want to be."

"But you didn't end it. " he said softly. 

"How could I? Not matter what, no matter when everyone would have assumed I'd broken up with him to make myself available to you. Even though that's the last thing I would want them to think. They'd all say it. 'Oh poor Molly she dumped the idiot thinking she had a chance with the man who doesn't even know she's a woman. What a fool she is.' "

Sherlock felt relief when he understood what she was saying." Molly...You... You made Tom end it?"

"Not... Exactly. It just sort of happened. Although now I wish I could take credit. It worked rather brilliantly." A tiny smile broke trough on her face.

"What did you say?" He allows his hand to tighten slightly in hers, letting him know that she was glad it was there. 

A deep blush covered Molly's shadowed cheeks, and she broke eye contact with him. "Like I said, I was pretty drunk, and you were in my mind after disappearing. And well Tom and I were... Being I intimate and I.... I screamed your name out when I..."

"Came?" He finished dead pan. But broke into a large grin a moment later. 

"It just sort of came out! I was worried about you when you left." She admitted. 

"But not enough to come after me." He chided bitterly. 

"I did though. I came- I... went to find you but you were already long gone." She said softly. 

"Oh."

"I was too late wasn't I?" 

"Well I was leaving pretty fast. "

"No... With not ending it with Tom. I should have done it. "

"He's an idiot." Sherlock says , despite the fact that he feels like an even bigger idiot. 

"But Sherlock, you must have known that if you'd said even the slightest word that you cared about me then I'd have done it. Thats all you would have needed to do and I would have ended it." Molly said holding on to both his left arm and left hand. 

Sherlock didn't respond to that statement but he didn't move away. Yes, he'd known that, but he can't give Molly what she wanted in the long term. Not that he could now, but the future wasn't his concern at this moment. 

The two had drifted around the tent and were standing looking over the castle ruins and the light of a nearly full moon. Molly shivered and Sherlock pulled her into his arms. They stayed there holding each other for a few minutes in the moonlight. 

"I.. Should be getting back." Molly said glumly. 

"Don't."

"Mmm." Was all the acknowledgment she gave as she wiggles closer into his arms. Sherlock allowed his chin to rest against her forehead as they continue to take in the quiet view together. Molly kept shifting and became more and more agitated in his arms. Then it dawned on him; she was shivering. They'd come out without her wrap or coat. Pulling away gently he slipped out of his inadequate suit jacket and pleaded around her shoulders. It looked comical on her petite frame and he smiled warmly to her. 

"Shall we?" And he offered her his elbow, and she's clung to him. 

When they return to the loud party it seems that no one had missed them in the slightest. The wedding party dances together to popular music while the older guest laugh at tables.   
They saw Tom rather tactlessly and some pretty ginger woman while Richard and Jillian clung to one another to 'come on Eileen' all the while laughing happily together. Maybe it didn't matter about the future if you could be happy in the now. 

"Do you want too-" 

"Oh God yes."

The pair retrieved coats and bags and slipped away completely unnoticed. They walked hand in hand to the Funicular and Sherlock tipped the operator to let them take the car down without it being even half full. It's was them and a handful of other passengers and they were able to sit quiet and privately in the back. It was a quiet ride, nothing needed to be said to fill the comfortable silence. In the darkness back down Molly yawned gently and rested her head against his shoulder. 

Yes, Sherlock decided the future was messy, but the now was good.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was posted on ff.net forever ago, like seriously last October. I'm sorry to have made you wait so long but since i'm adding chapter 15 as well I hope you will forgive me.

Higher 14

Day 57 00:15 hrs

Being hyper-aware of his surroundings was something Sherlock Holmes was all to familiar with. However, being hyper aware of Molly Hooper and each glance that she made and tracking her intake and exhaling breaths was new. The walk as they made their way to the room grew awkward and tense for each of them with each door they passed on the hall till finally they reached their room. Once they finally did, the just both stood there, staring at the door, yet neither one reached for their keys to open it. It was ridiculous. Why were they both nervous? Still, Sherlock felt frozen; unable to make any type of movement. Molly was the one who finally shifted and pulled the key out of her clutch,opening the door while Sherlock stayed where he was, silently cursing for not doing it himself. How could he have let her get the door? Wasn't he a gentleman? His mother would weep if she knew.

Molly walked in, and he followed speedily, anxious not to linger in the doorway by her. After he passed, she shut the door and turned slowly to look up at Sherlock. They hadn't discussed whatever 'this' fully was or what could happen between them when they were alone, with not one but two inviting beds standing prominently and quiet invitingly in the room. He swallowed despite his dry mouth and took in the nervous look in Molly's eyes. Slowly, he slipped off his coat and hung it along with his suit coat, noticing how she had not moved and how her eyes follows his hands movements. Testing the theory he rolled his cuffs up to mid forearm watching Molly's face the entire time as she gulped at the sight of his exposed wrists also displaying a mixture of attraction and hesitation.

He strode over to her, where she still stood holding her key and clutch by the door and watching as color flooded her face and insecurity filled her brown eyes as he took them both from her hands and set them on the bed. Next, he returned and stood still in front of her then reached up and helped her take off her own coat and wrap, hanging them next to his own and admiring the two beside each there. When he turned back to her she spoke. "Sherlock, I-"

But he silenced her with a soft kiss. They stood together, but only barely touching, "Go get out of that dress. Then we can talk." He spoke, his voice lower and thicker then he was used to ever hearing.

Nodding she moved and picked up her small bag "I... I need to shower before tomorrow. Is that's ok?"

"Of course. I'll just be... here." He finished rather lamely. As Molly flushed brightly again and looked as if she wanted to say something but turned and disappeared into the ensuite.

Sherlock rifled through his own bag and took out his own sleep clothes, a long t-shirt and a pair of light weight flannel trousers. He changed and then sat down in the chair once more pulling out his mobile to read emails and see if anything could get his mind off the fact that Molly was in the shower just through the door that separated them.

Finding nothing suitably interesting, at least anything that compared to the woman in the ensuite, he set it down and allowed himself a chance to order his thoughts.

Everything should have been under control. It was after all an easy situation. He'd come here as an escort as a favor to Molly, simply to help her out on the occasion of her horrible cousins wedding where the bride as it turned out was marrying a gay man just get back at Molly for becoming engaged before she had, and was continuing for her own personal gain, despite the fact that Molly's engagement had ended ( thanks to himself, although through no fault of his own). And now, Molly's idiotic ex-fiancé was here as a groomsman and Molly's formal escort during the laughably false ceremony for a marriage that would serve as a smoke screen for the bride and grooms future careers.

Yes, this so-called 'simple arrangement' was turning into anything but simple. In fact, on the other side of the coin were the ramifications of his having snogging Molly breathless and wanting to do again and to progress even beyond were harder to grasp. The physical desire wasn't something he was immune too, and of course, he knew Molly was attractive, even if she wasn't as eye-catching as the woman. If he was looking for someone to have an uncomplicated physical release with, Molly wasn't who'd come to mind.

And yet, there was so much more substance to Molly Hooper than merely her appearance. And certainly nothing that he'd found in any other woman he'd met. Molly was a She was security. That she cared for him was clear but was that enough of a reason to explain why he was there? Sitting and waiting to see what was going to happen between them.

He had never allowed himself to be this close to a person physically. Sex itself was an unessential need easily sated privately. The desire to mate was no more than an animalistic urge. Like the need for sleep, or the need to eat constantly, it could be over come and controlled.

But having Molly in his life absolutely was a need nearly a craving. One that was swiftly becoming out of control. And truth be told, the thought of sex with Molly wasn't as daunting a thought as he once had thought the task might be. Clearly his body wasn't opposed to the idea. Still though...sex right here and now? He swallowed and flushed as his blood rushed at the thought. Sherlock acknowledged that it did have a certain appeal to it. After all, Molly would be expecting that to happen when she came out... right ? They had been rather heavily involved with each other earlier, so would she be assuming that things would commence to advance when she came from her shower?

In fact, Sherlock could only to easily imagine just how he wanted this to happen. Right there...on that bed closest to him and then he decided. Yes. This was what he wanted. What she wanted. Standing, he began clearing off the bed. Trying to ignore the slight tremble in his hands as he went. To calm down he reminded himself of what the sex act would consist of. Mechanics really. Simple and basic of course; more holding and embracing. More touching. All if it leading to what the textbooks described to be a simple placement of Tab A into Slot B and all that until the friction caused chemical and physical releases. One, he had seen performed in an astounding number of angles on Johns laptop by a variety of couples. The only consistency was that each seemed to make an exorbitant amount of noise at the apex of their pleasure. A sentiment that Sherlock had never found necessary when his body demanded release. Would it be different with a partner? Would Molly make those loud sounds as they moved together?

Sherlock swallowed once more, finding that his throat had gone completely dry at the thought. He turned and opened the mini bar, searching through the limited beverage choices. His preference would be simple water, but perhaps he should take a shot for courage or would cracking open the champagne in celebration of the end of his virginity be the correct course of action?

Still frozen with indecision, the bathroom door was opened suddenly and Molly came out. Dear, sweet Molly was covered neck to toes in a pair of baggy red flannel pajamas that were covered with tiny polka dots and a demure trimming that was buttoned as high as one could button. The ensemble wasn't sensual in he least, but still Sherlock longed to take her, the tiny unexpected woman in his arms and hold her close. She was perfect just as she was. All of her hair was damp and her face shiny and clean. Molly looked completely without guile. In her hand she held a towel. It was a look he'd seen on her a half dozen times when he used her flat as a bolt hole and it made him breathe easier. Molly however, refused to meet his eyes. There was no need to deduce that she was nervous, and worried about what she was coming out too.

Sherlock couldn't help but note how tiny she looked in those oversized childlike pajamas. Leaning against the wall beside he bath he spoke attempting to defuse the situation.

"New pajamas Molly? Are we having a sleep over now?" Sherlock hadn't meant that as a double entendre but the fact that she blanched brought him back under a close semblance of control. This was a familiar dynamic. He could work with this.

Molly quickly brought herself back under control as well and rounded on him. "Yes Well, what can I say? I'm rather tired of your complaints about my other tatty pajamas. And I bought these long ago and just never opened them. But... This weekend felt like a good time." She breathed. Looking relieved that she had not stuttered. "I must admit that I am surprised you cleared your things off my bed for me. That was kind of you."

Sherlock straightened. "Your bed?"

"Mmhmm. Mine." Molly sat down on it and slid back to the middle of the bed. She folded her legs underneath of her and flipped her hair over one shoulder and began rubbing her wet tresses vigorously with her towel. He stood mesmerized by the movement, but tore his gaze away, glancing at the second bed in the room that had Molly's bags still open as well as the heavy tote she had brought.

"I fear you are mistaken Molly. I have in fact cleared that space for myself." Well us, he mentally added. The banter was easing his nerves, it suddenly felt as though the sex wasn't the priority it had been minutes before. Now all there was him, her and a battle of wills. Molly didn't stand a chance.

"But I claimed this bed when we first arrived!" She challenged.

"No, you claimed this one." He said indicating to the bed beside him and her things on it.

"Oh. But-" She flung herself back and leaned back against the pillows with her arms up over her head. "I'm just so comfortable here now." She smirked at him as he stared down at her.

The playfulness seemed to flee as he looked at the lines and the feminine curves she was displaying, along with the softness. Sherlock simply wanted to lie down with her, hold her close and feel her in his arms. Why he turned instead and reached for her bags of the second bed he never would understand.

"Fine Molly, since you are so settled I will move this small bag that you seem to have weighted down with bricks and settle myself in." Molly hummed her approval and Sherlock set about getting ready for bed. By the time he returned from a quick tooth brushing and face wash Molly had closed her eyes and seemed more than half way asleep.

Sherlock clicked off the lamp and wondered what to do next. A fair amount of light filtered in through the window and allowed him to make out Molly's profile against her pillow. An unfamiliar urge to kiss her brow swept over him and he turned quickly to pull back the duvet and then settle himself into the bed before he could act on that foolish sentimental want. Where had it even come from?

Lying and facing the sleeping Molly he mentally scolded himself for thinking they were going to be having sex now. It had been a stupid assumption. All his fault clearly. Worse was the fact that he still had the desire to have a sexual release flooding though his veins. This is why he didn't let his flesh rule his body, as it made his head unclear and unfocused. Sherlock tossed and turned trying to find a comfortable spot, hoping that his body would relax and settle for sleep instead.

It was a futile attempt. The mattress was well-worn and dipped badly in the middle and caused him to roll toward the centre each time he got settled in comfortably. He huffed in annoyance and thrashed about after the fourth attempt to get situated.

"Everything alright over there?" Came a drowsy sounding Molly. Damn, he'd woken her.

"This bed seems to have been well broken in by several rather obese guests." he huffed once more.

Silence filled the room as they lay uncomfortably (literally and figuratively) waiting for sleep to claim them. Molly soon found her way back to sleep and Sherlock was left hearing her gentle even breaths. He laid there, hearing her, sensing her...longing to hold her. Surely she wouldn't protest if he climbed into bed with her. Perhaps she would curl into him and he could then feel her deep even breaths as well as hear their soothing cadence. Would her arms hold tightly on to him as they did on the bluff? And if he caressed her hair, her skin...

That be the wrong move. It would disturb him knowing that someone had touched him in his slumber, and he could only imagine it would be the same with Molly.

Unable to find a suitable spot, and ruling out the idea of asking Molly to share her bed, Sherlock stood and went to pull on his coat. If he couldn't sleep, there was no sense staying on that ridiculous excuse if a bed and he was starting to be unable to trust himself with Molly. Grabbing the door he pulled it open, causing it to creak loudly. Stilling instantly when Molly shot up in the bed. "Sherlock?" She asked in a panic as she moved to stand up, legs tangling in linens slowing her progress.

"Everything is fine Molly. I can't sleep so I'm going out. No need to get up." Sherlock assured her. Molly reached over and turned the lamp on and looked at him closely then at the twisted sheets in bed. "I'll be back shortly no need to worry." Why had he said that? "I doubt there's much trouble I can get into at this time of the morning in Hastings." Out there, his mind supplied. If I stay here I will be in trouble.A small smile and he moved to step through the door.

"Wait!" Molly called. "Are you tired?"

Sherlock looked over his shoulder. "I am fine. You know I can go days without-"

"But are you tired now?" She insisted.

"A bit." He admitted. "But it's fine, I'll be alright."

Smoothing the sheets around her out she kept her eyes down as she spoke quietly. "You can sleep here."

"I don't think you'd be comfortable on the other bed either."

"I meant that we could share this bed." When he didn't respond after a moment she lifted her eyes to meet his. "Unless that's not something your comfortable with." Molly said softly and looked at him with large, sleepy eyes. There was no insistence, or censure or any ultimatum. This was just Molly Hooper,once more asking what he needed from her. She was all comfort and ease. Steady and calm and offering him a damn invitation to share a bed. Purely to help him rest.

Sherlock strode back in, softly pulling the door shut softly, slipping the coat back off, but leaving it on the chair. Molly's steady gaze never left his own as he made his way to bed slowly as if he was approaching a wild animal. He sat, stiff, then pulled his legs into the bed and covered them. Molly remained sitting up, stiff and still as he laid himself straight back, not curling into his side either towards or away from her After he'd remained still for several moments Molly asked if he was settled. He hummed his affirmation and she reached over and turned off the light. She waited a moment once more than relaxed back down to her pillow.

And there they lay, neither moving, neither speaking and neither sleeping for the next 20 minutes.

Sherlock was frozen trying to fight the want to act. It wasn't the right time... Molly was tense from his closeness, she wasn't showing even the slightest sign of interest toward him. Perhaps it would have been better to go out and walk the town and sort his thoughts. He moved the slightest to get up when Molly's voice stopped him.

"I thought about you in the shower." Molly whispered then groaned as she realized how that could be interpreted. "I mean I thought about us. No... Not like that. Why is this so difficult! I mean that I thought about all that has happened today... Between us."

Sherlock waited and when she didn't speak again he rolled over towards her profile. Molly sensed that was all the encouragement to continue to go on he was going to give and spoke again.

"Whatever this is that's happening between us this weekend, I don't want it to have to complicate the normal us. I want you to know that. I don't have any expectations of you. I swear. "

Quiet surrounded them once more as Sherlock sorted through her words for any hidden meanings. He should thank her for being so understanding but he was an irritated. Had he read her desire for him so wrong? The Molly who had asked him for coffee, the Molly who had dressed up and given him a card with her love written on it. Did she not feel the same now? How was it he ached to touch her and she was telling him that they could just be as they always had?

"But If you wanted me... Then I'm here. Even if it's just the weekend, or just tomorrow...

"Or tonight?" He asked nearly breathless.

Molly leaned over and turned to look at him.

"Or tonight." She affirmed.

Sherlock sat up and she followed him and in the dim light they peered at each other. He reached for her and crushed her to him for a searing kiss. Releasing a moan of relief to finally hold her closer. His hands tangled deep into her still damp hair and felt it clinging to him. They kissed for only moments before hands started to explore one another. One of Molly's trailed up his neck and her fingers slipped up into tangle into his hair. The sensation was amazing and he longed for her to never stop her weaving through he curls. His own hands lingered on the back of her head, but he allows one to drop down to the fullness at her hip. Pulling his mouth off hers he moved his lips along her jaw line and slowly to her long, lovely neck. Sensing the rush of her blood just under the skin he allowed his mouth to linger there, nipping, kissing and sucking. Drinking in Molly's soft sighs.

They continued to moving their hands over each languidly. Silently. And with a tenderness that neither felt like breaking with words or by moving forward in haste. Molly used gentle caresses across his back and down his hips and legs. While Sherlock seemed to feed his own desire for her with the utter need to learn the feel and taste of every inch of her. His large hands slipped below her shirt and marveled in the softness of her skin along her back, sighing as he felt Molly tremble from his grazes. Understanding her need, He moved to undo the buttons with determination and fascination as the clothes were removed leaving her luminescent skin exposed in the low light. Sherlock's eyes took in every inch of exposed flesh with his fingers reverently tracing the path his eyes took as they glided across her skin, memorizing each curve and muscle . He longed to turn on the light and see all of her, to study her like this but found the dark allowed them boldness and enough of a mask to allow this all to happen.

Molly shifted and helped him remove his shirt, and ran her hands over his chest and all the muscles newly exposed to her. She lingered around the puckered skin caused by Mary's bullet. Tracing the scar by ghosting her fingers across the still tender flesh.

He ached to feel her touch him else where too. "Molly..." he whispered. And she knew he was ready. Removing the final layers separating them Molly bent down into her hand bag on the night stand and pulled out a condom. Sherlock gladly excepted. Ashamed that he hadn't even considered it he need.

"I haven't been tested since Tom, but we were both clean..." Molly spoke gently.

Sherlock looked at her, "I've... Ive not been tested at all. " he admitted tensing up. So close

"Yes you were. In hospital... After the drugs you had in you it was part of a discreet safety protocol Mycroft had me do. You were cleared as well." She said softly.

Perhaps he should have been offended, but he couldn't care at all about that right now. Pulling the protective layer on he followed Molly where she had gone back to her pillow and leaned over her. Hesitating he looked into Molly's eyes. "It's ok. It is. If you want to stop, we can. I understand. It's all ok..."

"Molly... I want this. I want...you." He whispered.

With a nod, Molly reached and helped him find the alignment he needed and he lowered himself and connecting the two if them. Together they found a rhythm and moved together so swiftly. Sherlock was surprised that the act itself wasn't nearly as mechanical as it had appeared. Rather, it was more fluid, more like a dance the two shared with one another alone. The sounds they each made weren't loud nor were they at all forced, rather a soft and infinitely endearing music that they made to accompany the dancing.

And the completion that resulted from it all silenced the endless noise and thoughts in his head. He was euphoric and overcome by the sheer masculine pride that surged through him. They didn't speak, to afraid they'd ruin this perfect moment. A moment that was theirs alone.

When at last, exhaustion claimed them, Sherlock once more on his back, but with Molly now draped across this chest, he felt a peace and rush beyond any high the drugs had ever given him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you can find me on Tumblr under the same name.
> 
> Thanks and Love, Misty


	15. Chapter 15

Day 57- 9:15am

Sherlock awoke alone and quiet naked in a strange bed. A gentle ping had roused him from his deep slumber. Reaching blindly out toward the mobile to read the messages that woke him, he let out a hiss at the burn that flashed over him.

To be honest he couldn't remember the last time he slept so long without the use of the pain meds, and rarely even with the medications as soundly. He was definitely awake now though. Hard not to be with the pain that was flaming out from his abdomen, fanning up across his chest and around to his back.

Sherlock ignored the phone momentarily as he went in search of his pain medication. Grabbing the bottle from his bag, he swallowed the pills without even bothering to get to a drink of water. That was when he turned back to the bed and saw the state of the sheets. He took a step forward then noticed that there was a bright pink bra lying In he center on the bed. Molly's bra. A bra that he himself had removed from her body...

Oh good lord.

Everything that happened the night before came flooding back. Sherlock Holmes was a virgin no more. Sweet, observant and soft spoken Molly Hooper.A woman he noted, that had long since vacated the room.

Limbering gently back to the bed he... No, not he, they, he quickly amended had so recently occupied he picked up his mobile phone to see if there was any clues there. The mobile held a half-dozen messages from his usual contacts, but only a single text was all that was offered from Molly.

I couldn't find my sweater from yesterday, would you mind bringing it with you when you come to the church? - Molly

Sherlock read the message. He closed it out then immediately opened it again. Was there a hidden meaning to the missive? Some significance he was missing? There was no emotional greeting or superlatives offered. No sentiment at all to the request, it simply was what it was. Unless this was her way of insuring that he'd be coming to the ceremony. Oh clever girl, Molly Hooper! Smiling, he typed in an 'of course' to text back. However, he delayed and reevaluated several times weighing the options to respond. Thankfully, he quickly nixed the idea of responding back with a smiley emoticon, not even the 'winky' one that he had downloaded to study their various meaning and uses (they could be used as code now after all). Perhaps a flirtatious 'what will you do for me in return?' was warranted? Good lord, What had he become? With a growl of frustration he simply typed in 'yes' and hit himself back on the bed. Arms crossing his face. He needed to think. And shower, he noted with a cursory glance at the clock and the taking a whiff. Definitely needing to shower.

The ceremony was due to start in thirty minutes, when Sherlock made his way out of the inns front door and across the intersection to the large grey church. Sunlight was pouring from between the clouds, and the air was pleasant and fresh with the sea so nearby. A beautiful day. A carefree grin graced his face, unchecked as he strolled to the building holding Molly's over-sized creme colored sweater neatly across his arm.

At the door, a smiling groomsman greeted him in an overly friendly manner. Checking his smile, (was he grinning? Preposterous.) Sherlock asked where the bridesmaids were preparing and followed the path to the left of the main door. Nearing the described door he heard the peels of laughter, and knocked when it toned down. The door flew open a scant few inches to reveal half of a bright eyed blonde.

"Hi, I'm looking for-"

"You can't be here! Where is Andy? He's supposed to be guarding you. " She hissed.

"I need to speak to Molly. Molly Hooper. Can you send her-"

"She'd die if she knew you were here!" The blonde half shrieked." You must leave. Now!" She went to shut the door, but as he'd become used to placing a foot inconspicuously in the door way it hit rather forcibly and painfully against his foot.

"Let's be clear, I'm here to give this to Molly and only that. I'd rather take a lovely lethal dose of hemlock than speak to Jillian." Sherlock hissed.

The blonde wavered slightly, before confiding to him in a hurried whisper. "She's being a royal bitch today. God knows that finding out you were even near this door would set her into the seventh tizzy of the day. I'll get that to Molly. I Promise. Just don't rile up the 'royal princess' anymore than she already is. And believe me, finding out you're here being a doting boyfriend would do it. She's already snipping at the poor girl over the state of her hair."

Sherlock nearly snarled. Molly deserved far better than Jillian's scorn and it was so temping to march in there and drag Molly out. From behind the blonde Jillian's voice called to asks who was at the door. "Yes, ah thank you Albert, I'll see that she gets it. Ta! " Then she reached out, pulled Molly's cardigan and slammed the door before another word could be said.

Sherlock froze a moment wondering what he was supposed to do next. This wasn't going the way he'd expected it too at all. He desperately wanted to see Molly, to speak to her just for a moment although the desire seemed unfounded to him. Stupid even. But still he wanted to see her. But for Molly, for her sake... Absolutely not Jillian's Sherlock turned around and headed down the stairs. As he turned to head toward the sanctuary, a bored voice called to him. "You Sherlock Holmes?" It's source was an extremely relaxed figure leaning on the banister. The mans beige suit and white shirt and dark tie were slightly wrinkled and his face sported several days worth of growth, the same length as the hair found on his head. His skin was swarthy and he held all appearances of not caring in the slightest whether he was Sherlock Holmes or not. Not a fan of his clearly, which was refreshing these days. Sherlock squinted at him as he took man in. Waiting for his purpose to reveal it's wild. "That's me."

Pushing off the banister the man strolled over to him, hands relaxed in his pockets, giving an uncaring intimidating pose. "I'm Andy. Looks like I get to be the lucky one on guard duty for you today apparently." He sounded just as abject to the appointed duty as Sherlock felt about Jillian sending him in the first place. As per usual Sherlock quickly deduced the man: one of Jillian's cousins from her fathers side. Not well liked but family still. Black sheep, blue collar worker, plumber by trade. Family disappointed in his chosen career, also a fan avid fan of baking. Considering a career change but needs a steady income. In a committed relationship, but girlfriend couldn't, no wouldn't come with him today. Woman love weddings so it must be a dislike of Andy's family. Ah Jillian. Delightful. Jillian gave him an ally rather than a keeper.

"Ah hello. Guard duty is it?"

"They are scared you might do something...rash." Andy shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the prospect.

"Mmm. Yes. Well, sorry to disappoint but I'm not going to do that. The sooner this fiasco is over with the better in my opinion." Sherlock said carefully measuring each word.

"Agreed." The two stood on the entry way evaluating one another before realizing that it was pointless as neither truly cared.

"I only came because I didn't want Jillian to have any more ammunition to use against Molly. Do you know Molly?" Sherlock asked. Of course he knew the answer but he needed Andy to be comfortable with him. Lull him into a false sense of security. Bond, as tedious as it was.

"Yeah, We share the bride as a cousin. I'm a nephew of her uncle's brother. Used to spend summers here in Hastings together, Jilly, Molly and the lot of us. Great girl." Andy noted, scrunching his face to look over Sherlock. Suddenly his grey suit felt incredibly underwhelming. Even inadequate somehow. Like Andy was judging him over his worth of Molly and found him lacking somehow.

"Yeah isn't she though?" A false smile broke out at that it softened as Sherlock thought how true it was though. "I don't want to cause anymore trouble for her. Although, it looks like either way Jillian's likely to be displeased."Andy grunted in agreement. "Totally puts a damper on the day. I generally love weddings. The meaning, the families... The cake."

Andy tilted his head and considered Sherlock with a chuckle. "You do know that I do know about you right? What it is that you do?"

"Yes. Well it was worth a shot at least." Smirking, Sherlock sighed. "Although not about the cake. I do love a good cake."His guardian considered him but said nothing about the cake. "Well let's go get our seats for the circus shall we?"

Nodding after him they proceeded into the main door. He two found seats predesignated for them in the centre of the church on the right hand side. Looking at his watch, Andy huffed and seated himself down, stretching his arms back across the pew. Sherlock stayed standing a moment but felt awkward with nothing to do but sit down. Relenting, he joined Andy to wait for the show to begin.

Guests continued to file in and be placed by ushers as the appointed hour drew closer. At eleven the bells began to chime out and the doors closed to allow the bridal party entry. When they opened again the first pair of attendants began their march towards the alter, simpering and grinning before parting to stand off to the side of the minister. Several pairs continued in before Sherlock saw Molly. Only then did he release the breath be had not realized he'd been holding.

Molly Hooper wasn't grinning like fool, nor was she moping. She managed to straddle a line between perfectly contented and fairly well concealed irritation. All in all though he couldn't help but consider her peaceful expression as quite near happy. Something not caused by the bumbling Meat-Dagger who looked strained and rather much like he was going to be sick. No, Molly was perturbed by something else. Curious, that. A shiver of discomfort ran over him, could it be him that was causing her to feel that way?

Parting at the end of the aisle, Molly went to her allotted spot in the que of bridesmaids. Sherlock took in the full version of an overly dressed up Molly on her display. Like all the other bridesmaids, Molly wore a long flowing deep grey organza gown that went over a single shoulder, an embellished belt, and carried a small bouquet of yellow roses. Of course, in his opion she was the only one who wore the look well. In fact, she looked... she looked... wonderful. Molly Hooper, tiny force of nature that she was seemed to glow from within: calm composed and not at all wobbly on those damned heels. Smirking he allowed that the practice had paid off. Sherlock found he could not keep his eyes firmly on her, not caring at all about anyone else in the bridal party's grand entry. Including that of the bride. The minister called for all to rise and he blindly obeyed, simply to see Molly once more after all the guests had come between them when they had stood. By the time they got leave to sit anew, however Sherlock began to feel a little bit panicked.

Molly, the minx refused to look at him. Avoided all glanced to that entire side of the church completely. It was driving him mad how much he wanted to feel her eyes on him, to read her face clearly and to see what was bothering her, and... what now stood between them. To learn how to proceed and where they now were expected to go from here. Words whispered in the night wereone thing after all, but he needed to speak to her. See how they were going to work together, even here in the bright light of the church seemed to be the only thing of importance on the planet at this moment. So there he sat, willing Molly to turn her head to see him so that he might hold her brown eyes so coyly avoiding his own.

In her refusal to answer his silent summons, he roamed her person more intently looking for any clue at all she might give. He took in her low loose updo that made her round cheeks stand out( ignoring the memory of the still damp tresses that gad clung to his skin last night), the professionally applied make-up that subtly enhanced Molly's eyes and lips, ( the memory of the feeling of her lips skidding across his skin was promptly dismissed.) The way the gown clung to her frame (and how that frame fit so well against his own). The added height from her shoes, those damn heels, barely peeking out from below the hem. And she stood tall and firm; Confident and poised, Sherlock noted almost with pride. The practicing had helped her at least. Of course they were still what got him into his mess though. Three inches of pure mischief.

Throughout the ceremony he continued to stare and Molly continued to ignore him. Instead she focused on the bride and groom, her serene expression failing every so often and showing displeasure. Her attention would shift focus, to the minister, the flower girl who was making a mess of the petals, to each and every guest on the grooms side. Anywhere but the brides side. Anywhere but on him.

Oh, but he knew she was thinking of him. Such an effort too avoid so much as glancing at him, along with the tell-tale blush that covered her face, her neck, her... not to small chest. Could she feel where he looked at her, at where he'd lavished an extraordinary amount of time the night before? Was that a love bite under concealer peaking out from the neckline of that gown? Sherlock, felt a rush of blood heading down towards his hips and shifted his gaze to Tom in order to stifle the forthcoming erection. Between the dimwitted ex-fiancé and the sickeningly over dramatic reading being 'performed' by a friend of Rich's his body managed to cease it's personal excitement.

"God that was almost me. Thank God above that I was deemed 'unnecessary'." Quipped Andy beside him. "Well, until you showed up making trouble. So thanks for that."

Sherlock shot him a look, although it wasn't too harsh. After all, he found that was growing to like this one Cousin. Andy could be a powerful ally if he played this right. "So glad I could oblige you." He murmured.

Sherlock locked focus again on Molly and watched her flare at the man going on and on with the inane reading. Molly paled and clenched her teeth. Tom, he also noted looked near to tears and was shifting his gaze between Molly, Jillian and the reader. At one point he mouthed the words 'I'm sorry' and Molly snapped her gaze away from him. Refusing to see him anymore. Jillian however smiled like the cat who'd lapped up all the cream towards her soon to be husband who stared rather blankly at her, then to Tom with a grin of satisfaction.

Sherlock listened to the speaker off handedly. And caught the final lines.

"Everything you need to know is in there it is still true, no matter how old you are, when you go out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together."

"Oh yeah, if much rather be sitting here, minding you than reading about what I learned from kindergarten." Andy whispered.

"Kindergarten?" What did nursery school have to do with anything.

"Odd choice for a wedding right?" Andy raised a brow. "And an even odder choice for Jillian to have in her wedding, if you ask me. " He murmured on. Sherlock nodded. Not typical of Jillian at. Somehow very, very typical of Molly.

One look to Molly and it was confirmed. That was something she's loved. Something Jillian had stolen away from her. Sherlock looked around and noted small details of the wedding. Small delicate details. Yellow roses (hadn't Molly said she'd painted her nails that coral orange for the wedding?) Anger burned in Sherlock's body as he longed to tell Jillian just what he thought of this ploy against his Molly. His Molly?! Focus Sherlock.

Instead he cursed under his breath and thought of ways to help Molly get her revenge on Jillian. His mind palace served as a delightful refuge where actions had no consequences and he could imagine the splendid look of mortification on Jillian's face mind palace Sherlock looked over to see Molly's enjoyment at her cousins being taken down twenty notches, and delighting in the saucy grin that would grace her face. Smiling gently to himself he sat and watched the ceremony proceed uninterrupted.

Molly stood looking sourly at Jillian, but only just so, Jillian meanwhile listened as Richard parroted the words that the priest required to deem them 'unified' and Andy dazed off out the window, mildly sneering.

When it was Jillian's turn Sherlock finally felt that heady weight of Molly's gaze on him. The brown orbs held his own delicately and without reserve. No demands on him, no expectations. Instead they shifted once toward the bride and groom then gave a nearly indiscernible head shake. A clear message of 'can you believe this ?' Sherlock answered with eye roll and a slight pantomimed huff. Beside him, Andy watched the exchange and snickered a low tone. "What?" Sherlock turned surprised.

"Oh nothing. I was just agreeing with you both." the smirking man teased. "Unless you were just making eyes at one another like two sick little puppies in love. Didn't peg you for that type though."

"I was not!" Sherlock hissed, causing the older aunt in the row behind them to glare and shh the two men. Softer Sherlock denied it again."That's not what was happening."

"Oh really? Care to explain why you looked more like a groom eyeing his bride as Molly walked in? Richard could have gotten a few pointers on how he should have attempted to look rather then like he was just a weeping mess."

Sherlock glanced back at Molly again and found her attention now locked on a window on the opposite side of the church. Once more refusing to meet his eye. She continued to do so till Richard and Jillian were legally declared husband and wife. All rose as the companions paired up to walk back down the aisle Sherlock noted with no little amount of satisfaction that Molly completely refused to hold on to Tom's extended elbow, leaving the man to look increasingly like a tomato.

Sherlock waited till Molly made it through the doors before rounding on Andy, "How did I do?"

Heaving a shoulder up he spoke. "Not the worst babysitting gig I've had."

"So am I ready to be let loose on good behavior?" Sherlock asked hopefully.

"For the reception? No way in hell sir. Now what's say we head down and find the bar at the club?"

Reading from. "All I Ever Really Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten," by Robert Fulgham

A/N

It took me forever and for that I am so very sorry. I went ahead and planned a whole wedding for this fic, and it took me firever to battle it against real life. Thank you, all of you for your patience and encouragement, comments, follows and favorites. Feel free to come find me on Tumblr!

Mistykins


	16. Chapter 16

Higher 16

Day 57, quarter to 13:00

Before the two men got away Andy was dragged back in for obligatory family photos, only some of which that included Molly. Sherlock was forced to stand off to the side, skirting curious guest and two brave guests who thought he looked like he could use some 'good company'. Molly must have noticed the exchanges given the look barely concealed amusement she wore as he not so gently rebuffed the women.

Sherlock noted how relaxed she looked now that the ceremony was over. How she stood off away from Tom, nearer to the mother of the flower girl. Her eyes were much more willing to meet his own than they had been during the ceremony's. A fact he was grateful for and one that gave him the signal and courage he needed to stride over to her.

"Molly, you look..."

"Well?" She grinned and chuckled.

"Unusual." Was his too delayed answer. All of her facial features dropped as his choice registered and she uttered a soft "Oh". Molly looked away and and brought her hand not holding the bouquet of yellow roses across her body. Classic defensive move indicating that he had definitely said the wrong thing. Shit.

"I mean to say that you in no way look bad, not by far, in fact by conventional means you look rather... stunning." Her hesitant glance at him spurned him on further. "It may be too that I prefer you being in your own clothing choices because they are so uniquely yours."

That managed to bring her smile back it started shyly growing into a brilliant beautiful smile. One that he felt his own answer too warmly once more. "Sherlock Holmes, you like my terrible jumpers in-spite of yourself don't you? Come on, you can admit it." Molly teased.

"Of course not, Molly, but I may have developed a far greater appreciation of the person on which they are worn." He turned to stand more directly beside her and allowed his long fingers to caress her own that held her bouquet. "It's remarkable how much I've found I am endeared to her."

"Oh." Not a hurt sound this time. No, it was a far more content and pleasant noise to his ears. "Sherlock, about last night. I know it was-." Before she could finish her cousin interrupted.

"Quick lets go before that bleeding man thinks of another asinine pose." Andy had returned not that the photographer was done with and groomsmen were the main focus of the photographers torment and Andy was already walking motioning for Sherlock to head to the car.

At the same time some newly freed elderly family members had grabbed Molly. It looked like their conversation would have to wait again as she smiled apologetically to him. He motioned to Andy and indicated that they were leaving and seeing her tiny wave of acknowledgment turned away, feeling that lingering connection of her gaze as they rounded the corner. He must have let it show outwardly how satisfied he was to hold her attention because his companion began to make rude lip smacking noises at him. "Oh shut up."

The man chuckled. And unlocked an older model, yet well looked after T69 Triumph and skidding behind the wheel. Family heirloom, Sherlock deduced as he settled in. Andy started the car and zipped out of the lot and past the church. Sherlock watching to see if Molly could see them in the sporty car while they passed.

"So you and Molls... How did that finally come about?"

"Oh... No. We just- I came as a friend." Sherlock set his face not giving anything away and kept the tone light. Friends who happened to have slept together the night before is all. "To help her meet Jillian's request that she bring a date."

Andy's side-eyed glance measured his companion. "So it's a date between friends? That's all?"

"What more would it be?"The driver was silent, but smiling like he knew a secret. "I.. owe Molly a great deal and she was in need therefore I came to make this a bit easier." Sherlock was silent. "Of course I didn't realize that it wasn't a single day but three days that I was agreeing to."

"Uh-huh. And if you had known, would you have still come?" Was Molly that important? Being the unasked question.

"If Molly needed me... Then yes."

"So she's a damsel in distress then? That's why you're here, some sort of dragon slaying mission?." 

"That's a rather apt description of Jillian, although I don't plan on doing any real slaying." Sherlock humored."No, I'm not some knight here to rescue the day, I'm here to serve as a support. As a friend should do."

"So you guys are just friends then?" He asked again.

"We're...Yes?" Sherlock hated how unsure he felt about the question. Not even withstanding last nights intimacy he still found it difficult to admit that they were that close. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"You know, I've never met you at Molly's birthday parties." Andy noted, eyes forwards on the road. "I got to met you friend the blogger, even met your landlady once or twice as well, never you though. Why is that?"

Ah. "I... was...away." Sherlock said looking out the window as they went further down hill.

"Right. You were off 'being dead' that's a good as excuse as they come." He was silent a moment. "What about the one this spring?"

"What about it?" Sherlock asked confused.

"Molly's birthday party. Such a close friend, you'd have thought I'd have gotten to meet you there."

Ah. Molly's birthday. That was in... April? Towards the middle? Hard to recall, April being so long past. He recalled the cases, wedding planning and mundane events... But had no remembrance of an invitation from her or anyone else. "I.."

Andy glanced over briefly, "Such good friends and she didn't invite you to her party?"

Had there been an invitation? Had he avoided the party? There was no memory of a large case during that period. "I... Do not do well at social occasions. "

"Yes, which is why I've been ordered to babysit you. Since you clearly are not the perfect date to a wedding." Andy chuckled. "Yet here you are."

"Here I am." Why, indeed?

"Why you and not the blogger chap, or any of the guys from the yard? Or from the lab?" Oh yes, the man going through a marital crisis or a man who would only be there to gain access to Molly's knickers. Like you did you mean? His subconscious jabbed.

"I... volunteered." Sherlock admitted head still turned to watch the town pass by.

"And just why would you do that?" Andy challenged.

Silence filled the car as Sherlock thought out how much to share. The truth was simple, but it complicated matters to admit it. "In all the years that I've known Molly, she has helped me a great number of times. I owe her a great deal. Attending a wedding, given my track record seemed a good way to let her know how much appreciate all she has done." Close enough to the truth of it. If only Andy was satisfied with that, but no. Apparently he was as observant as his cousins were.

"You mean how she saved your life? Honestly? Are you really that thick that you think being a pity date to a wedding is a good way to thank someone for saving your sorry arse years ago?"

"She saved it once more just this summer actually." He really hadn't meant to say that. And from the look of disgust on the drivers face he knew it wasn't combing out well. "I mean to say, that she has once more saved my life and I am once more indebted too her.

"I'm no fool l, Andy. It isn't enough. Nothing could ever be enough to convey how much I..."

"Do you love her?" Andy cut in. Sherlock lost every word, every thought in his head. He hadn't even noticed that the car now sat parked on a kurb and Andy sat looking at him, serious and surprisingly not unkind. "Do you? Do you love Molly?"

"I... No, I don't believe in love." Sherlock recited.

"No, no don't give me that chemical defect nonsense Molly's told me about." Andy admonished. "Let's break it down simpler. What about care. Do you care about Molly?"

"Yes." Sherlock hissed. It felt half agony, half relief and all confusion. to be able to admit it much to his chagrin. How weak had he become? Sentiment, definitely a disadvantage. It turned him to a pubescent boy. Unsure, needing approval from this man he had only met an hour before. Dull and base. Simple.

"Okay. Alright then. So you care. But how much?" Andy eyed him pointedly. This would be a wonderful moment to walk away Sherlock decided as he opened the door. A hand shot out and pulled him back in the seat the force pulling the door shut with him. Andy's other hand threw the ignition and the gear shift into park and the car shot off. "You give me my answers and I'll let you go. Till then a little tour of Hastings it is in order." The man shifted into second gear (when had it even gone through first?) and away from the club where the reception was to be held.

"Still waiting for that answer." The driver intoned, irritation becoming more evident as he took a turn shapr enough to make the car tip just enough.

"More than I should." Sherlock mumbled.

"Your going to have to speak up." The driver goaded.

"More than I should alright!" He shouted, "There. Happy now?"

Looking across to him, Andy narrowed his eyes. "More than you should? Whys that? Is there something wrong with Molly?" Another turn. tight enough to send the wheels spinning and squealing.

"What? Of course not!" Nothing was wrong with Molly Hooper. That fact was beginning to become a problem. A rapidly growing problem. Silence filled the car. "Oh stop being an idiot. You and I both know that I am where the problem lies. Not Molly."

"Because you don't love her, oh wait, sorry; 'care' because you don't care about her like that." Andy insinuated his thoughts on that theory through his tone.

"No! I.. I'm going to fail Molly. It's statistically inevitable. I do it to all of them, all of the people around me. All of them... I hurt them." Sherlock shouted. "So yes it's That is the problem. I hurt them. I say horrible things and don't consider needs they posses.

"But not just what I say. They all get hurt. That kind landlady you met has been assaulted to gain entry to my home. John has been kidnapped on multiple occasions and both have had kill orders put on on them and Lestrade too. Knowing me, helping me it gets people hurt." Sherlock felt raw. This man was a stranger yet he was rambling his personal thoughts. All because of Molly. "I can't let Molly be hurt. I'd do anything to prevent that. "

The quiet that filled the car felt heavy. Thick and charged. This confession brought no peace. Nor was Andy refuting his claims. Of course not, there was no way to deny the truth. No way to change it either. Sherlock swiped a hand across his face before resting his wrist against his chin, elbow along the window beside him fingers twiddling in thought.

"If it could change-" Andy softly spoke, Sherlock cut him off quickly.

"It can't." He assured him. "Too many enemies over too many years. Anyone I allow to get close is put at risk."

"But you are close to Molly already. She's never been put in those situations." Andy pointed out.

"Kidnapped or under a snipers gaze? No, mercifully not. She has cuddled up with a mass murder who got close to her to get to me. He thankfully felt I held little regard for her. And now he's thankfully dead. I doubt he'd have even hesitated to pull the trigger if he knew she'd helped me to fake my death" Sherlock felt his jaw clench. "John was taken again just last winter. It's to risky. "

"Yet here you are." Andy turned his head towards him. "Putting her closer on the list of possible targets. Looking at her like she's some sort of mystical mystery you've just solved and now want to take to bed."

Face scrunched up Sherlock snapped "I do not! I don't look at her like anything like that!"

"Sherlock, you look at her like a man whose come home from a long hard war." Andy admonished. "Like she's a safe harbor after a rough week at sea. Not that she's much better herself."

"What do you mean?" She didn't do that, well anymore. Molly looked at him and she didn't flush, or giggle like she had before. She acted like a perfectly normal... Person.

"Last night, Molly looked at you like she was unbelievably proud of you. Today though, during the ceremony she looked... She looked just like she'd did when she was 14 and dropped Aunt Ruth's antique serving platter. It was beautiful, a favorite of Molly's mothers and her alike. Molly was holding it, without Aunt Ruth's permission mind you. Simply studying the picture, some landscape or another and it slipped and completely shattered. Irreparably broken.

She just stood there, not panicking about being in trouble. Just looking like she was taking a punishment enough by loosing that platter. She was quiet the rest of the day. Later on that day she asked me if I though it was possible that she was cursed. I asked why she would think that, and gave me a little sad smile and said that she was surrounded by beautiful things, but if she tried to possess them they broke."

"So your saying she looked at me like I was broken today?" Sherlock asked. He wasn't broken, he was fine! More than fine with what had happened. But that didn't necessarily mean that she felt the same way.

"She looked at you, well almost as if she had already lost you." Andy said. "I just don't want to see Molly hurt. And her feelings for you... That could destroy her."

Silence filled the car. As the two men pulled up to the club finally. Turning the engine off Andy spoke once more. "You know, there's nothing set in stone to say that it will end badly should you keep Molly close. Molly has loved you for years man, years. And nothing you've done this far has changed that. And Molly knows what that all means as she's not running away from the challenges. So why are you?"

Andy got out of the car and let Sherlock think a moment. It was true. Molly knew how dangerous his life was how that effected those around him. But she was still there calm and steady and there. Not pushing away, not dragging him closer. She was there and letting him make the choice.

Molly'd never abandoned him. Never given up on him even when everyone else doubted him. Even when he was high and pathetic and snarling at her. She helped him. How could he ever bear to keep away from her, particularly when he wanted nothing more now than to be close to her?

Climbing out of the car, Andy looked him over. "You look like you could use a drink."

"That I could." Was Sherlock's answer. He certainly had a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well this Chapter was a wild ride to write. Like it was supposed to be them just riding over and having a friendly chat. But that's what happens when you base Andy off Jason Stratham. He takes Sherlock on a wild ride. Literately. 
> 
> Thank you all for your patience with me. I wish I could devote more time to this story, because the reception is going to get GOOD.
> 
> ALSO: My real life 'Jillian's' ex-husband died in a car accident. She caused so much drama in their split that she and her family were forbidden to attend his funeral. She was distraught and I felt awful for her. She mopped for weeks... till it was discovered that he never changed his life insurance policy and she gains a large lump sum of cash. Now, shes got a brand new wardrobe, hair due and car and is back to being happy go lucky self (grrr) and I don't understand how life works.


	17. Chapter 17

Higher 17

Day 57: 14:30 pm… Clear skies, steady breeze. All in all, a pleasant calm before the coming storm.

"I kid you not, she came out in the frilliest dress I'd ever seen, hair in ringlets and this massive oversized bow stuck on the back of her head, and waded knee deep into the mud grabbing the dead fish, which mind you it was over half as big as she was, and declared herself the supreme fisherman princess! You should have seen the look on everyone's face when Molly was dragging around this god-awful smelling fish.

Of course, the only one not telling her to throw the fish back in was her dad. Not Will Hooper, oh no, he took it from her and promised to get it stuffed, raggedy gills and all," Andy laughed.

Will? Molly's father was a William too? That was news. "She still has that fish." Sherlock shared, popping an entire mini quiche into his mouth. She's got it hung up in her office. The thing looks awful still."

Earlier Andy and he had stolen half of a tray of horderves when a server went to help clean up from a spill. Andy had grabbed a bottle of Scotch and two glasses when the bartender had her back turned then the two men skipped out the back before the gaggle of older aunts and uncles found them. Now they sat hidden outside of Hastings famous Winkle Club overlooking the bay as the other guests filtered in from the church.

Andy had chatted here and there asking after John and Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock's recovery and stint as an intern. Surprisingly, the two got on rather well. Andy never brought up sports, or telly shows or any of the banal topics that most people went for when trying to 'connect' with another person. Instead, they sat and Andy had moved on after asking about his friends to talking about Molly telling tale after tale of their misadventures, including one of the wedding reception here at the club that they'd attended as children. At that one Molly and Andy were pestering their mothers so much that they'd told them to get outside and just do something. That had led to them inadvertently stealing all of the bird seed sachets to be thrown as the happy couple was leaving and took it out to feed the gulls.

Each story painted a vivid picture of Molly, the precocious trouble maker with big brown eyes, an innocent smile, carefree and so happy as a small child. Sherlock found he wanted to hear, to learn more about that joyful version. Sherlock also heard of the transition, where happy Molly had lost her mother , who as a result shifted into an awkward, unsure and more than a little lost and sad adolescent. The Molly who'd then grown up working alongside her father, but whose spirit was still nurtured as she was taught to explore and pursue what thrilled her rather than what society said she should. All that Sherlock Holmes learned just left him wanting to know more. To learn all the things about her that had made her into who she was as an adult.

He'd known Molly Hooper for years, but after all Andy told him, and all that he'd learned himself over the past week, he'd barely scratched the surface of who she really was. Of course, some of what he learned just served to remind him of how kind and giving she was; that she was brave, intelligent and so passionate about finding the answers to the mysteries her patients presented her. But the precious new informationed he was gleaming; the picture of an adored, slightly indulged child who had to suddenly grow up and matured fast after the loss of her mother. She'd always had a with a reckless streak, and a disregard for rules (one that nearly lived up to his own) along with a self assurance that had made her willing to explore and learn, no matter what anyone else thought of the subject. Character traits that he'd all attributed to her wanting to aid or please him… perhaps….perhaps all the things he'd made Molly do against her will weren't really against her will or character after all. Perhaps she'd only allowed herself to let that part of her back out because of his influence. Maybe that's one of the reasons she'd liked him so much. Because he allowed that long hidden mischievous streak to be free in. And, perhaps that was why, deep down, he had always liked her.

Molly Hooper and himself, kindred spirits? There was new things to learn everyday. The thought warmed him in a way he couldn't quite understand, endeared her all the more to him. All those quirks in her dress sense and personality suddenly made perfect sense to him. All traits derived from her mother by all accounts (the dress sense and sense of humor) to her spirit, kindness, and work ethic (those, came from her father, Will it seemed) they made Molly the amazing woman she was today.

"Pictures." Sherlock murmured out. "I want to see pictures." He needed to see Molly, each stage and version of her.

Andy looked at him with a ridiculous smug grin. "You've got it bad. You do know that, right?"

"Got what?" Sherlock scrunched his face up.

With a laugh Andy leaned forward, setting his cup down between his legs and kept his elbows on his bent knees. "Look, I love my fiancé. Really, I do. But when her mum tries to show me pictures of her dressed as a puppy for some awful primary school production, I want to book it and find something, anything, else to do. But you... you Sherlock, you're sitting here, practically begging, mind you, to see one of Molly. How do you not get how deep in love you are with her?"

Sherlock stilled and felt his easy ease with Andy begin to wane. They were back to that again. "Yeah, yeah I remember what you said. You 'can't' and 'shouldn't'. Blah, blah, blah, blah. But I'm afraid it's a moot point. You are so bloody in love that you're blinded by it. Can't see the bleeding ocean for all the water." Andy took a swig of the Scotch, passing it over to Sherlock who took it gratefully, downing two shots worth fast then sat still and looking forwards toward the lawn and water below, hearing but still getting irritated that Andy had led back to their earlier discussion.

Love her? No, he couldn't do that. He should never love anyone. It was stupid and reckless to do so. Forget that nonsense he had thought about not being a good enough companion to her (although it was still true as can be, Sherlock Holmes would never be able to treat her the way Molly Hooper deserved). But today, in the mid September sunshine in was obvious to him. His interest in her did more than threaten her emotionally. It practically shoved her right into harms way.

Panic spilled over him, and with it the survivor's instinct to run. He had gotten too close to danger and now he needed to leave. Just slip out and make a few calls to get him back to London. Mycroft surely would have someone he could send to accompany Molly the rest of the evening, someone charming who'd dance with her all through the night and make sure that she made it home safe, sound, and happy in the morning. Why had he not done that in the first place? Why had he even come! Yes, he needed to leave, for Molly... Molly who would...

She'd never understand. Not after what transpired between them last night. No matter what she'd said about being all 'understanding'. Dammit. He knew he couldn't just leave without her thinking, no, knowing it was because of her. And fool that she was would assume it was her fault when it was clearly, clearly, himself to blame. But also... his running away would be too obvious. If someone, and by someone he ultimately meant Magnussen was monitoring him, then he couldn't draw any undo attention to this situation. And that's not what they needed. They needed to be smart. He had to do this more stealthily. To make it seem like the weekend was only a ruse... That it was all an act, like with Janine or anyone else.

They needed a reason he would have come. A case... A favor... Any reason. Any explanation other than an emotional one.

"You coming, or are too deep in that head of yours?" Andy had stood and was walking back towards the door they'd slipped out of. "I thought you wanted to see pictures of Molly?" The giant arse grinned knowingly down at him. "There's one of the group of us when we were in sailing camp together. Molly's got to be about 12 in it." Andy raised a challenging brow at him. "Her hair was worn in pigtails every day that summer I believe. I seem to recall they were worn that day we took the picture."

Sherlock snapped his eyes up to look at Andy, as much as he wanted to moment to flesh out his new plan, one that would keep Molly safe... Well he supposed it could wait. Molly in pigtails? That was far too tempting a sight to miss.

Andy chuckled then lead him back in and around the edge of the dining room toward a hall that was thankfully empty. The hall was for all of the administrative officers of the Winkle club, and its walls were overflowing with pictures from the society's long past. Andy knew right where to look for the picture, flicking the glass when he found the one, "here we are." Sherlock felt his heart stop. 'Oh, would you stop being such a ridiculous ninny', he chided himself in a voice that sounded just like Mycroft at twenty. He looked at the photo of about fifteen youth dressed all alike in white shirts, blue shorts and little sailor hats as they all stood, lined up in front of a flock of small white dinghies and their bright primary color lined white sails. Right away, he spotted a juvenile Molly, smaller than the others but grinning as the little cap rested jauntily in the gap between her pigtails. Beside her, a tall boy stood, arm draped around her shoulders, his eyes going crossed in mischief defiance of the camera woman. "And there's you I see."

"Spotted me did you?" Cocky grin on his face. "Surprised you could see anyone but Molly." Andy teased, causing Sherlock to roll his eyes. "We really were cute, weren't we?"

"Yeah. Too bad you had to grow up and develop that unfortunate receding hairline." Sherlock jabbed enjoying the return of their earlier comradely.

"Hey, no worries. Some ladies really appreciate a bald head. I'm fortunate enough to be one of them... But you..." Andy considered him with a sneer. "If we shaved you, you'd have small children running away from you fearing alien abductions." He chuckled at the put off detective. "If you think I'm going to go soft on you because you are some 'internationally known wonder boy', then I hate to tell you, but you are wrong. You're still the dick here as the date of my favorite cousin, so by the rules I have to make you remember just how unworthy of her you are."

"I don't like your idea of 'rules for dating my cousin'. Besides, you've already been harping on a bit much as to my unworthiness of her." And far too right about it, he conceded. "I think I'm-"

"There you are! Do you know how long I've had to look for you? Do you, you giant pain in the ass?!" A young woman called interrupting him, stomping towards him. He couldn't place her, past being a wedding guest but braced himself lest she be one of the type 'A' fans looking to get a 'selfie' or a flirtation. Instead she brushed past in him in the narrow hall, Andy clearly her target.

"Well ya found me Jo, what do you want?"

"The bridal parties finally done being eternally immortalized in pixels and we're all being herded to the hall to exalt them in welcome." The woman answered in a monotone voice, although her eyes sparkled in a familiar mischievous way. "Mum says we absolutely have to be there. Besides, the bar will be opening soon. Although, by the smell of you, I'd wager you've already had more than a fair share."

Sighing heavily, Andy answered, "yeah, alright we'll come. Can't be helped I guess. Sherlock, this is Josephine, my kid sister, Jo, you already know just who Sherlock is so we'll skip all that song and dance." He started walking away, Sherlock was left alone to follow, after snapping a picture on his phone of Molly in her sailor's uniform of course. Quickly, he caught up to the two siblings as they bickered and ribbed at one another, ignoring him completely. It seemed Andy was overly fond of goading people once he had spirits in his system. While humorous, he spoke the hard truth behind his laughter.

The dining room was filled, with most of the guests seated already. "We're this way," Jo indicated towards a table off to the side nearest the kitchen. A table for the 'less desirable' guests near the kitchen, Sherlock determined.

"You mean they sat us with you?" Andy groaned. "What is this some sort of kids table?" It clearly was. The table might as well have been named the black sheep with its odd uncle and an obligatory coworker or two sat there as well.

The three sat and Sherlock felt all the gazes and curious whispers from the guests, along with the far from subtle pointing. Mercifully they were all distracted from the surprise celebrity guest by the groom's uncle, a 'jolly' man acting as master of ceremonies.

One by one, he announced the couples as they entered into the hall. The first were introduced as Mr. and Mrs. something or another as was the second couple. When Tom and Molly made their way into the hall, Mr. Jolly Jerry began greetings announced them as Mr. Tom Abernathy and the soon to be Misses Abernathy!" The look of barely concealed tolerance dropped immediately off Molly's face and rage seemed to seethe over her. Just before Molly shouted out, Mr. 'Jolly' Uncle must have seen the correction and began blubbering over himself. "Um, nope strike that, just Mr. Tom Abernathy escorting Ms… I mean, oh yes, please do excuse me. that is Doctor Molly Hooper. The engagement, it seems was called off between those two. They're not getting on so well these days it seems." The joke fell flat and he moved on to announce the other couples in. Sherlock watched Molly out of the corner of his eye as she didn't even try to smile and fake it any longer. Good. She shouldn't have to. He was ready to see the brave Molly again, the one he'd only caught glimpses of since they left London.

At last, the bride and groom made their way in and were greeting by a joyous thunder of hoots and applause. They made their way to the elaborate seats and the wedding dinner began to be served. Molly continued to sit, still and lonely up at the bridal table and Sherlock couldn't stand it a moment longer, leaning over to Andy, Sherlock told him that he was going to speak to her.

He'd only made it halfway across the room when Jolly Jerry took the mic again to announce the bride and groom were preparing for their first dance. Sherlock was nearly trapped standing along the wall with half the guests starting at him when he felt a sharp tug on his suit coat. "Sit!" A tiny gray haired woman tugged again with surprising amount of strength. Sherlock's mind noted that it was Richard's Gran, someone whom the man wanted to impress a great deal.

Seeing an empty seat beside her he dropped into the chair and watched from his spot as the couple stood together and waited as their track began to play the old standard 'Misty'. The two strutted around in some weird attempt at a romantic dance that looked more like two birds strutting around before a fight or perhaps some mating ritual. Both were clearly attempting to lead the other, and neither was responding. It may not have been painfully obvious to the other guests but to him it was transparent. A glimpse over to Molly whose displeasure was growing faster and faster helped prove that this was another of Jillian's 'choices' of Molly's favorites.

Enough was enough. He stood back up and continued to skirt his way over to Molly's corner of the table headless of the hissing gran he'd left behind him. Molly had watched his approach and spun towards him to whisper, "what is it?" Grabbing her hand he pulled lightly at her and motioned with his head for her to join him outside.

"Sherlock! I can't just leave." Molly hissed, even as she's already stood to follow.

"Come with me. Now." He commanded, before he slipped out the door behind the table. A breath later, she was behind him and he gently let the door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the door shut.
> 
> Hello! Long time no update, to which I most profoundly apologize for. Life is busy and my head is filled with to many stories. Good news on the Higher front is that I am fairly sure I can finish this story in three more chapters, even better that chapter 18 is already to my Beta ( the amazing TheNewJefferson, Thank you darling. Thank you!) So we shall see where that leads us. I also want to thank each and every one of you who comment, and follow and favorite this and all my works. You all are the best. seriously, you guys are.


	18. Chapter 18

Higher 18

"What's going on, what do you-" Sherlock cut her of by pulling her to him and crashing his lips into hers, allowing his arms to wrap around her and pull her as close to him as he could get. Molly didn't hesitate one bit, but eagerly ran her arms up along his arms, over his biceps and up to pull him even closer by his shoulders. Her mouth drank in his own and she let her tongue snake out to stroke hungrily at his lips. Sherlock returned each caress her lips made until he was breathless and forced to pull away from her mouth. 

"I didn't plan to do that." He admitted in a deep whisper, placing his chin on her forehead. 

"You're saying goodbye then, aren't you?" Molly tensed as she spoke. He should always know how easy she read him and yet still found himself surprised after all this time. "You realize this was a mistake and-"

"No. No, I'm not. I mean, yes of course I was thinking about it, but no Molly. I'm not leaving here... Not unless I can convince you to come with me." She sighed her relief, seemingly unaware that she'd holding her breath while she waited for his answer. 

"I can't." She sighed out, "Not yet at least. But you can go, if you want or need to. I could not blame you at all."

"I'm not abandoning you to the wolves, Molly." He leaned his forehead down to hers. "Although I want nothing more then to take you far, far away from here. My God your cousin is awful."

"Andy?" Molly looked up hesitantly and unsure. 

"No, no, he seems to be about the only decent person here. Present company withheld of course."

"And your present company is very much enjoying being held." She tried to say seriously but failed as a huge grin broke out across her face. He answered his own grin back and squeezed a hair tighter for a moment. "I'm so glad you like him." 

"He's doing that really great brotherly protection thing about trying to make sure I don't hurt you."

"He... He is?" She moved to look at him. "What has he done?" 

"Relax Molly, only a little brief kidnapping situation while he probed me about my intentions with you." 

"Oh my god." She whined. "How dare he! Listen, Sherlock I meant what I said last night. This weekend and all that's happened... It doesn't have to change anything between us."

"It already has though Molly. We can't pretend that this changes things. And not for the better." He spoke, from the expression on Molly's face he knew that the worry and remorse he felt must have been evident to her. "Don't misunderstand me and dont even begin to think that's it's you, please, because this has very little to do with you-"

"Oh well, is that so!" Molly pushed with all her strength off of him, but he recovered and pulled her back shifting to hold both her hands into one of his own left. His right hand he used to cradle her face forcing her to look up into his eyes.

"Molly, we...I. Molly, I can in no way even pretend to regret the events of yesterday or what happened between us last night. It's only that my being with you right this damn moment you have to understand that just my being here, puts you in the very path of danger. 

"I'm not a free man, the case I'm working now, the one that got me shot, it's not over, not by far... It is still a dangerous situation. Exceptionally so. And if we were to do this, do any more of this then I'd be putting you straight into harms way. And you have to know Molly..., you have to understand..." He closed his eyes tight as he admitted his greatest fear. "I can't lose you."

"Sherlock..." She began to argue, tears spilling out from her glittering eyes cause him to steel his resolve and press on. 

"What would I do to keep you safe Molly? If I jumped off a building and went after Moriarty's web for two years for John, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade what would I then do to keep you safe?" He stroked the pad of his thumb over her cheek before bending to kiss her forehead, slow in his own to rest against hers after he'd done so. "I'd do anything, sacrifice whatever I could to keep those I love safe. Even it means keeping them at arms length when I want nothing more to hold them close to me."

A strangled sob tore from her throat. "Shhhh." He soothed. Had he ever soothed anyone honestly before? Sherlock didn't really care. "Thats why we must remind ourselves that I'm here in a mission remember? My cover is to be your date. You requested an adoring, charming attentive date to make that brat of a cousin insanely envious that she ever demanded you bring a date. So you have, me.

"And I intend to play my part fully, just as you shall be playing yours; that of the adored woman, finally having snagged the man you admired for years understand? And when we get back to London you'll regale all our friends of how well I played my part in public but how monstrous and impossible I was the moment we were alone together." Pulling away he smiled lecherously down at her. "How beastly I behaved, that I drove you mad." Oh that blush, he took a moment to place his hands over those flushing cheeks. "Tell them that it was enough to make you finally move on. In a week or so, tell your family when they ask that you found out the reality of being with me was harder than you ever imagined and that it wasn't working out because of the complete bastard that I am." His smile turned sad. "Then you'll tell your friends on a night out how disappointing it was to let down after all those years but that you've finally gotten over me. Next, you will beg to be set up with someone else. Anyone different from me, perhaps someone who falls comfortably in the middle between mass murder and village idiot. Because it will be time to move on my Molly. And you will."

She was crying, it couldn't be helped but still it hurt to see, to have caused it. Too want to take back every word he uttered. But still she allowed him to hold her, Sherlock counted that as a small, undeserved blessing. "You sound as though you've put some thought into this plan." Molly, sniffed after a moment, remembering his gentleman's training his father had instilled into him, Sherlock fished out a handkerchief, using it to blot at her tears, careful of her still done make up. Her hair however had been mussed loose a bit in their embracing but was still up thank goodness. 

"I've been thinking about you in my life for years now." Watching her eyebrow raise he went ahead and answered the unspoken question. "Yes, years. I thought of it a lot during the years away once I realized how much I counted on you. How much I missed you and wondered what you were doing in my absence. But... the possibility itself has been on my mind since I first meet you."

"When you first met me! But you barely tolerated me." Molly laughed. "You told me I was a passable pathologist then proceeded to ask if I would kindly give you a single singed finger to run a test on."

"Which you did. And then I knew I had someone who'd be willing to get me the materials needed for my unorthodox experiments. But then I couldn't risk hurting you, or making you never want to see me again by, well by being myself. I've always known I wanted you but that I'm not good for you. Always." He held her a bit tighter, adjusting his chin as his throat took on a hint of tightness. "You will need to move on Molly. I can never be the type of man you deserve."

"I don't believe that. Not even for a second Sherlock Holmes." She snuggled back against him. "You are the most loving man I know. Perhaps you don't show it in the usual ways, but when you do show it, it's in extraordinary ways. The people that you do care about, you care about completely.

"I just never really thought that you would include me." She finished quietly. 

"Haven't I told you over and over that you do?" His voice was tight as he stroked his fingers up and down her arms. 

"Yes, you have, and believe me I remind myself of that often. But I don't feel all to worthy of you myself. I get why you find value in my work, but this new side of you actually being attracted to me. That's what my mind is struggling with coming to terms with."

"You mean why would I find you so beautiful despite the tragically awful clothing you wear? Or the horrible track record I hold of making derogatory comments against you."

"The comments about my lips-"

"That I couldn't keep my eyes off? Or wondering what it would be like too kiss." Sherlock cut himself off, giving in and doing so again tenderly and slowly until Molly pulled back 

"Sherlock!" She laughed. "What about all those horrible comments about my weight gains?"

"I told you it suited you? How is that in any way derogatory?" He challenged. 

"Point. And my breasts?" She leaned back further in his arms. "Still feel they are something I need to compensate for?"

"Oh Molly, how you've twisted my words in your head." Looking down at her chest, covered as it was by the dresses halter top, he moved his hands to the dresses empire seam line. Allowing his thumbs to lightly stroke the undersides of globes, delighting at the shiver that washed over her. The corner of his mouth hitched up and he bent his nose to her ear, allowing his lips to scratch as he whispered, "if you'll recall I said that you were trying to compensate. Personally, I don't think you have any need to do so as I find them, and you perfect just the way you are." She was crying. Again. Wait, was she crying?! "Molly, what did I say wrong? I'll apologize, it wasn't meant-"

"How can you say things like that to me but not even give us a chance?" Her words came softly through the tears. 

"Because I need you to be safe. Always safe." He nuzzled her once more. "I should walk away now. Right now... Leave and have Mycroft send someone charming in my place. That's what I should have done in the first place. I should never have come. Never held you like this." 

"But you did." She sensed what was coming. 

"And now, we've got to make sure that it's known by all to be a ruse. We'll need to start slipping. I'll get a tad bit 'inebriated' at the bar and say the right 'wrong' things and you... "Sherlock looked at her wide, willing sad eyes. "You need to show how irritated you are that I'm going 'off our script.' Think you can get angry at me if I make some horrid comments about you-"

"Oh I'm sure I can." She steeled her face, before cracking into a smile. "As long as I get to return the favor."

"Deal." He said before pulling her into to kiss her, tenderly and far to long for their plan. 

Pulling back Molly whispered. "If our plan is to fool others, then we really need to stop doing that."

"I know." He answered but kissed her again with a growing passion. A passion she he noticed couldn't fight answering as well. "You just make me feel... The sensations... They...." 

"It's a bit like taking a hit, isn't it?" Molly watched him carefully. "You know the science behind it, I know you do. It's just a chemical reaction."

"I'm an addict, Molly. And you're right. I want nothing more that to feel your body next to mine and I want to find somewhere in this place and to drown in those sensations with you over and over. 

"You make me want to indulge." He nipped at her throat, attempting to distract her from what he was really saying. How worried those admonitions would worry her. "I don't know how I'm going to-"

Cheering sounded from behind them reminding them both of where they were... Why they were there. And what they needed to be doing. 

"I can not believe you'd use my attraction for you against me like that. I need to be here for.. With my family." Molly spoke swiftly, sternly, but her eyes held such a sweet sadness that he ached. 

"It was worth a shot." Sherlock answered mechanically, clamping his eyes shut as he fought to get himself under control. 

"We agreed to this. Remember? You begged me to give you this chance. Said that you'd showed up, and do your part then we'd discuss changing the terms of your internship."

Ah yes. Well done Molly! Sherlock cheered her through his eyes lighting. "But I just wanted-" 

"This isn't about what you want. Or even what I want. This is about me saving face in front of my family and not being the laughing stock for a change. So please, stop trying to make it look like you and I are actually some sort of a couple it's unneeded and... And it is completely weird! So can you and I just...STICK TO THE GODDAMN PLAN!" She stage yelled at just the right volume. But smiled impishly at him, one that he returned. 

"Right then, well if you look for me I'll be by the bar. Wishing I was ANYWHERE else." He shouted back but mouthed 'well done' to her.

'Thanks', she mouthed back. Squeezing his hands before turning to stomp her damnable clacking heels across the walk way to slip back in without ever looking so much as back at him.

Sherlock rounded the building to get to the front. He really was going to need that drink after all. Because deep within his mind there was already that siren voice whispering again about a much simpler way to answer those chemical needs especially if he wasn't ever to hold Molly like that again.


	19. Chapter 19

Later in the afternoon of day 57:

The meal had been served and enjoyed by most, during which time Sherlock made sure to have several glasses of wine with it. The first had been due to the plan the other two should have come much later in the day. Especially after the shots of scotch he'd drunk with Andy. However, he reminded himself that as bad as the alcohol was it was still better than the other alternative that he could have already taken into possession from the parking attendant who was a dealer on the side but the alcohol was free and in line a much better alternative (Molly would not have been happy). So he liberally indulged.

Around him the people carried on with their dull existence, mostly oblivious to him past their initial interest in his celebrity. Andy, however he knew was on to the fact that something had happened just now between them. Something had changed. His brown eyes had swept between himself and Molly as soon as they'd both returned and had tightened, sensing that something had happened. "Did you make her cry?"

"Not intentionally." No point denying it. He had. And after what he had needed to say there was no way to avoid it.

"Did you make it right?" Andy groused out.

"We're fine." It came out through tightly ground teeth. They weren't. Never would they be allowed to be anything fine or otherwise.

"You're a complete bleeding arsehole. You know that?"

"With each and every fiber of my whole being." He cut his eyes to Andy. "I told you before, I couldn't deserve her."

"And yet you want her?"

"No." Sherlock lied.

"We've been over this-" Andy began tiredly.

"Yes we have, haven't we? Now if you could kindly shut up before I lose by patience with you, it would be a wonderful thing. If you don't like me now you truly couldn't stand me when I was appalled."

"Just so. And you better remember that I'll murder you without a second thought if you hurt her."

"Alright boys we get it. You each have big pricks no need to show them off to everyone with your pissing match." Jo hissed at them across the table. Neither answered but glared at the other.

From his peripheral vision he watched as Molly studied him before making her way to the bar herself and ordering a shot of gin and cranberry with lime. As she waited with her face turned from him she failed to account for the mirror behind the bar, the one that showed a slip in her mask as her heartbroken face showed it's appearance tore at him deep in his chest in a way that he wished he could simply dismiss as he once would have done years ago. Instead, he allowed the pain to throb in his chest; using it as a tool to remind himself how deeply truly losing her in his life would be. And how much he would have to work to keep her in his life lest he lose her permanently.

A moment later one of the bridesmaids came and joined her at the bar, smiling and talking to her. Molly's countenance instantly reverted to her previous state of mild irritation but something the redheaded woman said made her laugh. Encouraged, the woman grabbed Molly and soon dragged her (against her will) toward the other members of the bridal party who were congregating on the dance floor and bouncing around to a Spice Girls song. The redhead hopped about a little never once letting go of Molly who was then being pulled and flung around like a rag doll by the woman who held her with a death grip until Molly hesitantly began to bounce along to the beat. She was right. She wasn't the best of dancers.

Sherlock watched her begin to relax and he suddenly felt the pull for a cigarette or, if he's being honest something much stronger. An outsider would think them an actual group of friends as they all danced about the bride and groom. The best of friends. All coupled together. All but Tom and Molly. Tom, aware of this looked at his former fiancé a bit sadly but soon turned away as another upbeat song from the 80's took over playing he and Richard began calling out the lyrics to one another while jumping up and down. More of the wedding guests took to the floor to join in the festivities.

Several more songs continually lured the guests out onto the floor until it was only elderly relatives along with Sherlock and Andy who occupied the tables while the staff were clearing the tables. It was far from comfortable and the fact that it brought to mind the recent reception of John and Mary, and how awful their own current situation was made him feel all the more melancholy as he dwelled on his friend and his wife. In fact, the more he thought about them he angrier he got. How could John not see what a gift Mary was? That she was the perfect choice for John.

He decided to text the two of them before throwing the phone back You are both idiots. - SH. They didn't need to know the context anyway. They were simply being idiotic. And It gave him a small amount of peace to simply tell them that. They could have it all but were letting pride get in their way. Idiots, the both of them.

Yes idiots. Two blind fools. Kept apart only by their selfish pride and nothing more. Like something out of a bloody novel. Where as he and Molly... He and Molly... They we're doomed. Doomed whether they acted or not to suffer. Wanting her close needing her safely kept away.

But now... He could go into the mass now. Spin around in the blur. Lose himself in the pretending and drink in the moments with her. He'd already risen before he knew it. Ignoring Andy's eyes and walked towards her before turning to the loo. A diversion. An excuse. An avoidance. A delay of the inevitable.

After his brief sojourn he reemerged toward the latter half of a thumping party favorite. Rather than return to the table he remained hidden from the sidelines and continued to watch as Molly lost herself in the moment and smiles of those around her, completely and genuinely having fun. The final synthesized noted bled out and a more tender slow ballad came on. It took only moments before all the couples found each other and to sink into the familiarity of their partners arms leaving three uncoupled individuals. Molly, her ex and her cousin the bride.

Tom had looked stintingly from one another before turning to Jillian and gallantly bowing before her saying it be his honor to accompany her for this dance. Sherlock stepped out half way but stopped himself when he saw a hand grab Molly and spin her around. Andy to the rescue. Slinking back into the shadow he watched the two cousins warble around he floor, knowing that Andy had assured her of where her escort had run off too. Guessing at the inappropriate comments the man would be telling her until her gentle smile returned. Goading it to a soft laugh.

Beautiful.

Sherlock felt his feet move forward toward them far before his mind had caught up. Appearances he reminded himself. Simply keeping up appearances. "Mind if I cut in?"

Andy and Molly stopped and the cousin gave Sherlock considering looks before looking toward one another silently. Sherlock watched Andy's increasing grip and the look of questioning Molly gave him, all the while standing like a fool with his hand out to take hers. "No. This dance is mine. You wait at the table." Then he spun her inelegantly away from Sherlock leaving him to just stand there becoming increasingly aware of just how awkward he looked. Unexpectedly, he felt transported back to the moment at John and Mary's reception where he was alone without a partner. Dark thoughts pulled him inward and he was therefore startled when a small hand was placed heavily in his still extended one.

He opened his eyes and saw a tiny older woman: Richards's grandmother. "Oh, come on then. Give an old girl a thrill." She smiled warmly over her dentures. And Sherlock relaxed and moved to hold the woman and began a slow waltz.

The older woman scarcely even knew she had a partner, an especially capable one and ignored every attempt Sherlock made to turn them she was so busy humming to herself, no doubt dreaming about the good old days of her long past youth. Huffing in annoyance, he allowed himself to be paraded around by her. You would have thought she would have at least let him lead! Sherlock bit his tongue and looked for Molly who had the gall to giggle at him while Andy gave a full shit-eating grin at him. In his distraction he paid little heed to his partner and was thus quite surprised to find that one of her own hands had 'slipped' and was now firmly cupping his right arse cheek.

"Madame! Your hand." He hissed down at her.

"I know!" She giggled delightedly, playfully patting his bottom once more. "You have a fine rear view my dear boy. Absolutely splendid! Admired it as soon as I saw you. " her smile turned into a leer. Mercifully a younger woman approached them. "Oh hello Brenda dear, have you met my new beau? Quite a catch isn't he? A real fine dish. " The woman's daughter Brenda, the mother of Richard the Groom placed a hand on her mothers shoulder.

"Time to sit back down Mother, they're preparing to bring the cake out. So let's leave the nice boy alone now." The embarrassed daughter mouthed 'I'm so sorry, dementia ' to him and Sherlock instantly felt his ire at the woman disappear as it was replaced by understanding. He picked up the hand he still held and bent over it giving the wrinkled hand a kiss. "It was my pleasure."

Tittering like a school girl the grandmother allowed her daughter to lead her back to the table. Before he could make his way back towards his own seat he felt a hand wrap around his elbow. Turning he found Molly looking up at him. "That was very galant of you, Sherlock Holmes"

"She patted my arse!" He confessed, still mildly put off by the shock.

"I can't rightly say that I blame her for that." Molly giggled, bending back to eye the appendage. "I've wanted too do the same thing at times."

"Molly..."

"Oh relax will you!" She sighed leaning her head against the upper part of his tricep. The amount of alcohol in her system making her just a slight bit tipsy. "I won't misbehave, killjoy."

"It's nearly time to cut the cake, you know." Sherlock said after a moment, doing his best to appear indifferent to Molly wrapping herself tighter on his arm. It was everything in him to ignore the scent of her hair, the feel of her warmth and stability. "Did you... Ah... I mean to say would you like to-"

"I want to dance." Molly raised an eyebrow and a challenge. "Think you can keep up?"

"Oh," he paused. " l think I can manage." Reaching out, he gripped her hand and pulled her close into what most would call an embrace but he would refer to as a starting position. The action seemed to knock the air out of Molly even though she'd come willingly, and she stayed still, looking at his eyes and then down toward his lips. She made the ever so subtle tilt as if she were about to kiss him when he moved forward making her stumble. "Are you ready" Sherlock teased. In response, Molly stuck out her tongue but straightened up and readjusted her arms.

Softly and slowly he began to move rocking gently back and forth beginning footwork. In his mind, Sherlock was reminded about the dream he'd had of dancing with her just days before. Without really planning it, his feet began moving in more and more advanced steps. She may not have been as proficient as she'd been in his dream but she was keeping up with him more than he had truthfully expected her too. Clearly, she had some sort of experience with ballroom dancing.

"Jillian wanted a grand debutante. We all had to learn for it." Molly explained to his unasked question. "You?"

Against his better judgment his lips quirked up and he bent to whisper his ear, "I rather simply like to do it. Took lessons as a child and into my teens." His intent in revealing that part of himself may not have meant to be sensual but it seems that Molly most certainly found it so.

"So just how good are you then?" She breathily whispered.

His eyes lit with excitement and his voice dropped a step lower, "very" Around them the song began to increase its tempo and Sherlock decided to follow along with it. He shifted in order to pull her in close, delighting in the small gasp that she gave as he did so. If she wanted to see how good of a dancer he truly was then he'd happily show her. And Molly, oh ever surprising Molly let him lead her without fear. It was

A trait that most partners required weeks or months of practice to learn before they'd allow themselves to be so easily led by another's timing and space. But Molly knew him so fully, trusted him implicitly that her responses were instinctive. That knowledge equally encouraged and destroyed him. "Molly, perhaps we-"

She sensed he was leaning into a dangerous thought path and cut him off. "Should just stop talking and just dance?"

"Right. Yes. That. We should do that." They looked away from one another, being quiet for a long moment, but Molly it seemed couldn't quiet keep her mouth shut as much as she'd have hoped to.

"You are a great dancer. I mean I always thought you would be good at it... But you seem like you are really, really good at it. Why do you have to be just so good at it?" Her eyes closed and she leaned into him ever so slightly leaning her forehead against him.

"Would you like me to trip you again? The first was accidental. I can do it again if you like." Sherlock chuckled, struggling against the urge to shift his hold to hold more of her.

"No! No I think I'm set. Thank you kindly for the offer. I can fall on my own arse quiet easily by myself." Molly sighed deeply.

"Just stop thinking and follow my lead."

"Okay. I always do." You do, he thought as his heart clenched. Always.

Concentrating on the music he continued to speed their moves up and gained momentum, listening as the music crescendoed. Predicting that this was the tempo change that was reverting back to its first few measures. He spun Molly out, changing the arm positions and lifting her up to continue the spin. Around them 'oohs' of wonder and delighted applause rang out as he held her up. Molly bravely stretched out her arms in an elegant spiral ( a small amount of ballerina training from some point in her youth, he determined) before circling her arms around his neck as he slowly lowered her down, dragging her along his chest and letting her hang there two more rotations until he lowered her at last.

Applause rang out all around them as they finished and Molly glowed bright with pleasure and joy. As to everyone else he could have cared less. He wanted to lead her off the floor and find a room and have her right then. Screw the threats of the future, she was whole solid and perfect right there in front of him now. "Perhaps we should-"

"Having a wonderful time ladies and gentlemen?" The piercing voice of the honorary introductory Jolly Uncle Jerry rang out breathily and loudly over the sound system. "It's time to cut the cake! Richard my boy, where's your lovely bride gotten to, eh?" The crowd looked around but it seemed no one had any idea where Jillian could be. All the bridesmaids were with her and her mother was on the floor dancing so it wasn't the loo. The photographer was here as well prepped to catch the cake cutting shots, but no bride was in sight. From behind him Sherlock heard Richard's Grandmother say someone was knocking at the door and she stood up to answer it moving the thick curtain to get to the French door. Suddenly a gasp was heard and everyone turned to look out at the newly revealed sight of Jillian dressed in her wedding gown up against the glass with her skirts up to her waist as a man pounded into her, nearing his completion. Through the glass, Jillian's moaned cry's we're heard of "oh yes! Oh Tom! TOM! Oh Yes! Yes!"

For a moment there was complete silence throughout the room before Richard cried out, "Jillian, you complete and utter bitch! How could you!?" He then barged toward the door yanking it open and causing Jillian and Tom to topple inside to the gasps of the room.

It was at that moment that Sherlock realized something, sensed it like an oncoming storm. He leaned down to whisper into Mollys ear, "we have to leave. Now!" He urged pushing her toward the closest exit that was far away from the bride or groom. Numbly she nodded and began moving pushing their way out. They made it to the door before Molly shrieked and tried to turn back, "Oh no! I left my bag and sweater."

"There's no time, Molly. We have to leave now!" He thundered.

"But why!?" She asked a bit dumbly. Shock, Sherlock knew, over what she had just witnessed.

"Molly, you just watched your own cousin ruin her marriage at her reception by screwing a man who wasn't her husband."

"Yes. I know that. I was there, I SAW. But why-"

"Not just any man though, was it? Oh no she had to do it with Tom. Tom the one who YOU were once engaged to. A fact that every person in that room was made aware of." He looked at her waiting growing impatiently for her to understand. It wasn't processing for her fast enough with her running and looking about. He decided to pull her around a corner turning her to face him to make her understand what was happening. "Thirty of those guests had their phones out and were filming it. Molly, thirty different videos for people to share on social media.

"This is going to go viral Molly. And it's going to happen fast." He predicted, looking at her, seeing that it was clicking "And when it does... They are going to come after me aren't they?" Good. She was starting to get it.

"Yes. And that's going to let them know that you were here with me as your date. A date that all those people just watched performed some impressive dance moves... Those were videoed too, no doubt." Shit, he slammed his eyes shut. He'd been a fool.

"Oh God." Everyone. Everywhere. All the public was going to know that they were there together. And not just there together but knowing the vile things the media liked to say they were going to pin this on them.

"We've got to go, we will have to worry about that later. Right now we need to be anywhere that's not here" Sherlock peeped around the corner.

"Sherlock!" A voice called as it ran toward them, with panic he moved to block Molly before realizing it was only Andy. "You've got to get out of here. Now!" Pulling his keys from his pocket He tossed them to Sherlock and jogged over to Molly hugging her and somehow handing her her clutch from the head table.

"Excellent. Thank you, Andy."Sherlock nodded, pulling Molly away towards the door and heading straight to Andy's car. Opening her door and shutting it once more behind her he rounded the car and slid into the drivers seat and fired up the engine. Gravel flew as he skidded into reverse Before giving the engine all it had to make a get away.

They drove for a quarter of an hour before Molly spoke as the merged into the A21.

"Where are we going?"

"Home. To London." Sherlock answered, shifting gears once more to adjust to the speed of the highway.

"We left our things at the hotel... And my sweater..." That's when he noticed that Molly was shivering in he seat beside him, partly from the evening cool but more so from the shock. He slithered out of his suit jacket and handed to her, watching as she just held it, gliding her hands across it but doing no more. "Here's the part where you put it on."

"Text Andy to go by the Inn. We can get them when we return the car."

"Alright. And then what?" She asked staring straight forward and holding tightly to her seat.

Sherlock reached his left hand off the gear shift and picked her hand up kissing it gently. "We get back to the city, and we give them one hell of a bloody good show."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So THAT happened. Sorry it's taken so long, life hasn't been so gracious with time to write. But I have the final two chapters done and they will be coming out one a week. Hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> I also have to say a huge thank you to MizJoely for helping me beta these final chapters. Thank you!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say a huge thank you to My beta reader and encourager MizJoely. Also to TheNewJefferson for how amazing she's been. 
> 
> Thank you too to all the readers, kudos and comments.

Nearly sunset, day 57  
Location: on a back road somewhere just outside of London

"Pull the car over! There! There, now!" Molly suddenly burst out, pointing at a deliberated building. 

They had sat in silence for forty minutes, drawing closer to the city every minute. Already both of their mobiles buzzed nearly constantly with friends and family and no doubt a number of questionable reporters seeking to know what was really happening. Seeking an exclusive story behind the story. 

As the outline of the city loomed ahead Molly had begun to fidget and her outburst, Sherlock supposed, was not all that unexpected. Seeing an old closed petrol station he pulled in, circling around the rear of the building before idling the engine and facing forward. As he waited for her to speak he habitually took in the surroundings of the old village. It seemed a bit stuck in the past; no modern upgrades had been made to the building in fifteen years. No security cameras were displayed and he knew the mechanic’ shop on the other side was closed as well, its own cameras angled toward its lot and not at the petrol station. They were alone. Safe, for the moment at least. 

He allowed the silence to linger, to say why she had needed to stop. After five minutes of her staring straight into a cinderblock wall he gave in and spoke. "If it was crisps or the loo you need this probably isn't the best place for that." 

Molly didn't laugh, didn't smile. "It's a good thing we already have a plan in place, ya know? We need to have our story straight. We're heading into a shit storm and we need to be on the same page. I... I imagine this will be the last time we're alone together for a long while, what with everything...and well everything."

"It is for the best," he stoically reassured her. "The safest." 

She turned to look sadly at him."You're right, I know it. I do. And yet..." The brown eyes before him filled with unshed tears, "I don't want to do the safe or the right thing. I just want to be with you Sherlock. I do! I want you so much. These past two days- all you've done for me... How am I supposed to go back to being without you? Knowing how wonderful it is to hold your hand and dance with you? To be kissing you-"

It was entirely unclear which one of them moved toward the other first but neither were particularly concerned with who had initiated the embrace they found themselves drowning in. Each earlier embrace they'd shared seemed child's play, soft and tender in comparison to the passion they shared now. The desperation of their situations and the sheer inevitability of their imminent separation drove them harder together. His hands held her face tightly, urging - needing - her closer. Their safety belts were no hindrance, both realizing in their hasty escape that they'd never been done up. Molly struggled to cross the seat, her knees pinning down the long chiffon skirt as she tried in vain to climb into his lap. 

"Molly, this won't do. Wait, Molly. Just a moment." Throwing the car door open he ran to the back door of the station, spinning about before picking up a loose slab and holding out a rusty old key. He jimmied the lock about, forcing it open with a punishing hit of his shoulder before motioning to Molly to follow. 

Sherlock walked in ahead knowing she would follow. The inside was a fair bit dusty but it was well lit with late afternoon sunlight flooding in through the yellowed newspaper covering the windows. The floor was clear and open and the laminate still held a hint of its polish. He kicked at an old cup lying beside him, feeling antsy. Antsy and anxious to the degree that he put his hands in his pocket while he waited for her, though for what reason he was unsure. That is, until he heard the sound he never fully registered he was waiting for. 

Clack, clack, clack, clack. 

Ah, of course! Her heels. Those damn heels. The reason he'd gotten into this mess. The clacking continued, in a sure but slow and steady cadence as she crossed across the empty floor over to him. Her steps were sure now. No longer wobbly or irregular. They spoke of a confidence, self-awareness and assurance even. Some of which he wished he too could possess himself at this moment. 

He didn't turn towards her, didn't speak. Neither did Molly. When she reached him she slipped her arms through his to hug him around his waist tightly. Her face pressing into him between his shoulder blades. Gently he withdrew one hand from his pocket to place on top of hers. Drinking in the silence. This was a perfect place to think, a splendid bolthole with its stillness and mild yellow light. A quiet respite in the midst of a storm. "The peaceful eye of the hurricane..." he murmured out loud. 

"What's that?" Molly softly asked behind him. He knew her well enough to deduce her eyes would be closed and her full attention spent on holding him. A veritable anchor. An apt comparison to coincide with the hurricane, he allowed. 

"Back in my youth I was a bit obsessed with pirates. I even told Mycroft I wanted to be one at one point or another when I grew up. I spent many of my days playing pirate or learning anything I could about them if the weather was to poor to be outdoors. 

"I once read the account of a crew that rode out a hurricane out on the water. Crashing waves, cutting wind, with bruising, pelting rain. The crew finally gave up hope and lashed themselves to the railings, certain that their deaths were imminent. The young officer wrote of staring into the spinning clouds, waiting for them to descend down death’s sweet promise of release. 

"And then, the spiraling clouds thinned and the late afternoon sun glowed golden around the ship. In the light, the waters ceased their heaving and the winds stilled. The young crew praised every deity they knew to thank for their survival, whereas the older, more experienced sailors merely got to work insuring they would be prepared for the other side of the storm. 

A moments pause then he continued on. "I suppose this is what they felt like," Sherlock concluded, his eyes taking in the yellowed hue about them, dwelling in the quiet the empty room provided. Anchored to this moment by Molly's secure arms. This was the calm in the middle of the storm. The last moment that they would have together privately. Desperately, Sherlock's mind raced to think of what to say at this moment. So much had already been decided, what else could he say? Why must saying goodbye to her be so damn hard! They were doing the right thing for God’s sake! 

"I used to love hearing stories of lovers that were separated from one another. It was romantic. Like the story of my gran and granddad. The dance they shared right before he went overseas to Germany in the war. That they'd danced and clung and how Gran said she felt like she was dying and flying all at once in that moment. She always got misty eyed whenever the song they'd danced to came on. You know the one? ‘I'll Be Seeing You’?"

He shook his head no and tried to stay as resolute as he could. Then he felt her begin shifting, rocking back and forth and after a few gentle sways she lowly spoke. "It.. goes, I'll..." She started to speak and he waited, not breathing to hear what she would say, "be seeing you, in all the old familiar places..." 

Singing? She was singing? Now? Confused Sherlock remained still and listened. 

"That this heart of mine embraces, All day and through."

Singing and dancing? Was she dancing with him, now? Oh yes, she was. Gently Sherlock reached her cross hand and pulled it out, turning himself around toward her. The moment he saw her tear-filled eyes however, he immediately pulled her in close, wrapping his arm about her to pull her close into an intimate dancing frame. She turned her face from him, pressing it immediately into his shoulder, hiding her face but still needing him. "In that small cafe, the park across the way, the children's carousel…” her words faded but her arms wrapped tight around him as she clung to him as hard as she could. 

Sherlock couldn't stop his reactions anymore. He was kissing her, holding her even tighter than she had him and they were doing their damnedest to let nothing, nothing come between them. He pulled her backwards until his back hit the wall and then slid down to the floor, tugging Molly into his lap. Once seated he pulled back slightly and looked at her, his heart aching at the sight of the tears streaming past her eyes heedless of their determined stare. "How am I supposed to do this Sherlock. How? How am I supposed to pretend that I don't want to be with you when every moment that's going to be all I want. Tell me, how am I supposed to look at you, be near you and not- and not..." Molly couldn't finish. It was all becoming too, too much. 

And Sherlock didn't have an answer. He was feeling the same warring emotions he usually fought so hard to keep at bay. All he could do was look at her, hold her and know how it was going to feel being torn apart, knowing they would likely never have another moment without the world intruding in on them. "I don't know. I don't know..." The words came out completely unbidden but nonetheless they were true. "But we're going to stay with this plan. We're going to do it because this is the best thing we can do. It's our only option. 

"But please, Molly, don't... ever forget just how much you mean to me." Against his chest she nodded. And he shifted his hands to hold either side of her face delicately between his hands. Her brown eyes still leaked tears but she locked her eyes on him, nodding slightly. He wanted to smile, to reassure her, but nothing was coming so instead he just held her and studied her. 

Not deducing, no not at all. Instead it was his way of keeping this moment to remember forever. "We may not be able to show it... never to say what all there is between us. But never doubt it for a moment. Because it will always be there. I'll do my best to find ways to show you that you mean so much to me."

"You... you can text me. Nothing serious. Just nonsensical thoughts. Show me your world, your current thought stream," Molly softly murmured through her emotion filled throat. 

"Make you slides full of interesting things to study to when we're at the lab," he only half-teased, sliding his hands slowly down her face, down over her neck and further down to stroke her soft shoulders and arms. 

"I'll make you coffee at the lab." She promised. 

"I'll bring you coffee when I come in," he countered.

"Of course you’re still welcome to use my place as a hide out, whenever you need. Maybe I should just get you a key. It might make it a bit simpler?" she warbled out. 

"Mmmm. Yes, I have always rested so well when I stay at yours. I suppose it all makes sense now as to why that is. It's not your awful bed, that's for sure, but it was you. It's always been you. You're the one I came there for. To rest in your presence..." Then he cocked an eyebrow at her and murmured a soft "Hmmm'. 

"Hmm?" Molly questioned back, eyes fluttering down to his lips. She was calming down now, but as one emotion passed it changed into a new need. Desire. 

"I was just considering how all these signs... they sounds an awful lot like how we normally act and behave towards one another."

Chuckling Molly now managed a small smile. "That must mean we've been trying to tell each other this message for quite some time." She paused before leaning up to kiss him sweetly. "I know it's something I've been trying to make you understand for a very long time Sherlock."

"I always miss something."

"You didn't miss it, you just didn't allow yourself to acknowledge it. If your actions towards me have been you trying to show me how you felt... well yes at times you've been a bastard. But others.... at other times you're really completely wonderful." She kissed him again, this time nibbling on his lips as she brought her hands to his hair. 

There was more he should and wanted to say. More he wanted her to know. But the feeling of her fingers gliding through his follicles was something as she had said too completely wonderful to ignore. Sherlock decided to give up on words and allowed them to continue using their mouths and hands to show each other how they felt. 

After a particularly long embrace that left them both breathless Molly twisted out of his hold and moved to stand again. He never spoke, merely started to prepare himself for the return to reality... that was until he noticed Molly moving her fingers into her hair, tossing the pins she pulled out and letting her waved hair fall down around her. Next she moved to the zipper of her dress and looked to him. Breathlessly he nodded, never looking away from her as she slid the zipper down and let the grey gown fall silently to the floor before stepping out of it. Moll simply stood before him in nothing but lacy pants and stockings and those heels that had so inflamed his curiosity about her and had led to this moment. 

Sherlock, unsure of what to do when a woman presented herself to him as she had, sat forward then crawled on his knees until he was right before her, and then hugged himself to her. For a moment she stood still, shivering just a bit for all that her skin seemed to burn against him. Then she ran her fingers through his hair and tilted his chin up till he looked at her to see her motioning him a silent 'up'. A command he obeyed. 

Wordlessly Molly began to unbutton his shirt, repeatedly checking to make sure he was still comfortable with what she was doing. For all they had shared late last night in the dark, these final moments of daylight in an abandoned petrol station seemed so much more intimate and revealing. This time not only did they now have the knowledge of just how much they cared for one another but also that this was not something that was likely to ever happen again. 

Together they moved. Touching, kissing and allowing their bodies to tell of the love that they couldn't speak out loud long into the night. They savored every moment until they absolutely needed to leave in the wee hours of the new day. 

On the outskirts of the city Sherlock contacted one of his homeless network associates that helped watch over Molly and ascertained that her flat was not being watched before he took her there. Exhausted as they were he merely helped her out of the car before handing her the keys to Andy's car and walking off without a word. He didn't trust what he might say if he even tried to speak. As he walked away he felt Molly’s eyes on him until he rounded the corner. 

The early morning did little to distract him from his pain both physical (damn the pain medicine being left at the hotel plus the rather unique physical activity he and Molly had engaged in!) and emotional. Hell, the physical pain was nothing in comparison to what he felt emotionally. On his walk he passed a dealer out late - or rather, out early - and felt the siren call anew. The promise of a distraction from everything he was feeling. 

He even paused a moment beside the man, exchanged a greeting with him before the thought of Molly’s sad eyes reminded him that she was suffering too at this moment, and would never approve of him self medicating. It was then that he shook his head no when the dealer asked him if he was in need of anything special. 

He wouldn't give in. At least not today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is coming and will be out on the 24th. Stay tuned!


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go...

Higher 21 epilogue

 

1 day since they'd parted after the wedding 

 

"Sherlock, can tell us about what happened in Hastings?!"

"Were you hired by Jillian Collins to destroy her Wedding? By the groom?"

"Are you and Richard Billings secretly gay lovers?"

"How long has Molly Hooper been planning her revenge? Did she enlist your help? Is that why you were there together?

"Is Molly Hooper innocent or mastermind-

"Mr Holmes you've been associated with Miss Hooper for the better part of a decade- who is she to you really?"

"Can you confirm that Hooper was involved with your faked death?"

Around the doorway of 221B the cameras flashed and the reporters and film crews clambered. "Alright enough. You all need to leave. Go now. No comments will be given at this time." John waved at the reporters. 

"No. Let me speak to them," Sherlock said from the doorway, rolling his eyes at Johns surprised expression. "The sooner they are satisfied that this was nothing more than it appeared the sooner they'll let it go and move on to some other inane, salacious news story." 

John nodded and moved back to let Sherlock take his place before the media. "Let's be clear that I will only speak once on this matter and no, I'll not be answering any questions you dull lot could dream up. Understood?" Waiting impatiently he glowered at clambering reporters who soon grew quiet and still to record what the famed detective had to say. They knew from experience how ornery the man could be and just how quietly he could speak should he choose to to be a thorn in their side. They didn't know that he would not be doing so this time, no, no playing games today. He wanted as little intrigue to follow this as possible. 

"I was in Hastings, accompanying Doctor Molly Hooper to her cousin Jillian Collins nuptials. Doctor Hooper is a colleague of mine from St Bart's, under whose supervision I have been working during my rehabilitation. Prior to that, she and I have indeed worked together on research projects as well as on many different cases for the past several years. 

"Our relationship is that of two respectful coworkers and of two colleagues who are indeed on friendly terms. If it seems we work more often than not then it is do entirely to the fact that Doctor Hooper is not an idiot; a condition I cannot say that I can grant to many.

"While working together I found out that Doctor Hooper was unable to find someone to accompany her to a wedding. An escort was needed, deemed absolutely essential by her cousin, the bride, who is indeed Ms Jillian Collins. Due in part to my recent recovery period my schedule availability has been unusually free. And also... frankly, I desired a change of scenery after being trapped indoors for as long as I have. I figured that a change in scenery would do me some much needed good and help to relieve myself of the boredom from each monotonous day while I'm being forced to stay on 'light duty'. 

'Therefore, I volunteered to be her 'date'." Sherlock spoke the word with enough obvious discontent that it became crisp and sharp, something vile on the tongue. At least that was his direct implicit intent for how he wished it to sound. 

With a bored sigh he went on to explain the manipulation Jillian had set into motion, and how she was attempting to set her cousin up to take the fall for the doomed a marriage by placing Molly Hooper's Ex just so to divert attention to her cousin. "To my utter delight, a simple social nicety did in fact extend itself into becoming a bit of a case. I'd be lying if I didn't say I found it a relief, I must say, after so many months away from case solving. Even if it was merely a '2' all in all.

"Although, I must admit it feels good to be back in the game. Furthermore, I'd like to take this opportunity to announce that I am prepared to resume cases at this time. 

"Good day."

Ignoring the cries and flashing camera shutters Sherlock walked through the door of 221B with Watson murmuring apologies as he shut the door behind him. Making his way into the flat he removed his coat and scarf and kicked out of his shoes before settling into his chair, fingers templed and touching his chin. As he stared at the dust floating up, dancing in the mid morning light. 

From the side he knew John was watching him; studying him but so far staying mercifully silent. Whatever conclusion he gathered seemed to cause him to cross his arms and wander over to the window. "They are leaving finally, thank God." He raised one hand to tiredly wipe his face before crossing back to the chair to sit. "Sherlock you know if you want to tell me-"

"There's nothing to tell." Sherlock said easily, pulling his phone from his pocket to text Molly. I've set the record straight with the press-SH

"If there were-"

"How's Mary?" he deflected, tucking the phone back into his coat. 

"We're not talking about me, Sher-"

"You should go see her. Take her to tea, dinner something. Talk to the woman... just do something, John." 

"If it's all the same I'll stay here if you don't mind and we won't discuss Mary. But if you want to tell me what happened in Hastings we can talk. "

"No," the younger man baldly refused. 

"Fine. That's fine then. Have it your way." Rising again John went back to the window, pulling his mobile out on the way. He won't say what happened but something happened.Hope you're prepared to pay up- JW

A beat passed before the phone vibrated in his hand. Hell no! I had the wedding being ruined, which it was. -GL

But surprisingly not due to the git. And something definitely happened.- JW

What are the chances of that even happening? I can't win for winning. -GL

Oh but I won-JW

Did not. If they won't confess then we can't prove anything-GL

Oh they can deny it all they want Detective Inspector, but the hickey I spied peeking from below his collar says otherwise. Pay up!- JW

 

Day 16 Post Hastings 

 

They continued to work together as before, staying long hours in the lab. Around him the threat of Magnussen still loomed as did the holiday season. John was so often in a foul mood that Sherlock could barely stand to be around him. Mary too, when she would agree to meet him was withdrawn and glum. And Molly... Molly was the cause of his deepest pains as well as his sweetest relief. So lived up to all of her promises and more. 

After seeing Mary and Sherlock talking together she'd invited Mary out to have a girls dinner that evening, brightening her spirits considerably by having something to look forward to. After Molly had slid the cup of coffee she'd bought for Sherlock into his hand she slipped back into the lab, leaving them to say her goodbyes. Mary looked after Molly then to Sherlock. "Oh, Sherlock..." was all she said, reading the depth of their simple exchange. 

"It's for the best," he said before taking a sip and making a face at the disgusting canteen coffee. 

"Is it?" Mary cocked a brow.

"That's what I tell myself everyday. It's what keeps me sane and her safe." 

"Sane and safe... but sad." She sighed. 

'Mmm,' The detective murmured back, chancing another sip of the awful swill. "This will never do. Come on, let's go get a proper beverage." They walked in silence through the hospital and out to the nearest cafe before Sherlock chanced to get an update from Mary about how it was going with John. She'd shrugged as she picked up her decaffeinated tea. "I really can't see that we're making any headway," Mary admitted, "but I'm not one that gives up easily."

"Never one to take the easy path." 

"That makes two of us." Mary smiled a bit weakly and Sherlock smiled back. "For now though... well wasn't it John Locke who said 'It is what it is'? We're just going to have to wait and see." It was that. Silence fell over them as together they sat sipping their coffee and tea and their eyes looking towards Molly's overly sweet drink where it sat between them like a specter "Sherlock, whatever is going on between you and-"

"There isn't," he said firmly. 

"Fibbing again?" she challenged. 

"No," was his emphatic answer. "You know me and you know that I-"

"You care far more than you give yourself credit for. After all we wouldn't be here now if you didn't." Mary leaned back and pressed her hand to her belly, a tiny sigh working its way out. "The baby's kicking." Coyly she looked over at the buffering expression her friend wore. "Oh come on then." Grabbing his hand she positioned on her belly. "Right here. Can you feel it, Sherlock?" 

Beneath his hand came a small thump, a gentle flicking sensation. An undeniable proof of life that was up to this point a virtually abstract concept. A tiny act of aggression from the mix of John and Mary. 

His two friends created this life. He reminded himself that he had committed to doing everything possible to protect it. "I'm going to help make this right, Mary. I swear it. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this child safe."

"So will I." She covered his hand with her own. "As will John." Squeezing him once she then patted his hand before letting go. "Sherlock I need you to promise me something."

"What's that?"

"One day you’re going to have to face your feelings about Molly. Everything hidden has a way of coming out no matter how hard we try to deny it. And when it does, for both of your sakes, don't fuck it up like I did." 

"I'll... I'll think about it," he allowed. 

"Well that's something at least, isn't it?"

"It is what it is."

"Oh what, are you going to use my own words against me now?" Mary laughed as they stood and made their way to the door. 

"Probably." 

Somehow Sherlock had the feeling the phrase would stay with him. 

He made his way to the lab and wordlessly replaced Molly's canteen imposter coffee with the new cup and she looked up at him to smile, pausing when she saw the way he looked tenderly down at her. 

She didn't ask if he was okay, for he clearly wasn't. 

Nor did she ask what was wrong; that she knew too. 

Instead she just reached over and laid a hand on his arm as she looked up at him...  
Closer than they'd been in weeks and softly smiling she said. "I got a fresh donor in while you were gone, want to take a look?"

The smile grew at the change in expression on his face." Of course!" 

It was back to business as normal. At least for now. 

 

That night: 

The dreams still stayed with him. The crowded room, the urgency in her voice stressing we have to pull this off, we have to get this right. It was important. And each night he'd see her, dressed and ready to be everything he could have ever dreamed of in a partner both on the dance floor, and in other, far sweeter more intimate ways. Soon the music would play and they'd be off, moving, gliding and ever aware of the multitude of eyes on them waiting to see them triumph or to implode as their dances got more and more complex.

Sometimes, he spoke to her the dreams. Begged her to not worry, to just be herself. To make her see he didn't need this over dressed, over made up self that she presented the world. That she could just relax and simply be... To that his dream version hah tilted her head and looked at him with eyes full of confusion. "If I stop pretending we won't win. We have to do this. We have to or the cost will be too high to imagine." And then she'd bite her lip in that way that made him ache and softly beg. "Please Sherlock? Please? We have to give them a show. They can't see that it's real or we’re lost. So please do this. Will you do it for me?" Her fingers would trace the path that her own real ones had briefly blazed. And he was ready to do anything] to keep her safe. "Of course Molly, of course."

Clack, clack, clack. They'd assume their positions. The music would queue up and he'd straighten up his back and prepare to dance. To move in just the right manner to keep them on course. A path that was as predictable as it was mundane. A path well worth the effort so long as it kept Molly Hooper safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that.
> 
> I want to think you all, dear reader. Writing this fic, having you all read and comment, follow, favorite and recommend... it has changed my life. I am a completely different person than I was when I began. And that's not hyperbole. When I first dared myself to start this I was world weary and lonely after my husband suddenly took on a second job and I suddenly had nothing but alone time after my babies went to sleep. And I dared myself to write.
> 
> I put myself out there.
> 
> And then after some great months of reviews and followers I dared myself to audition to act in a huge seasonal production (my first in over a decade).
> 
> That led to me doing it again, and again. This year helping me to gain a pretty big part.
> 
> It's led me to go to 221B and meet writers I admire as well as people who've read my works.
> 
> All in all, it's been amazing.
> 
> I want to thank especially, my wonderful Betas, MizJoely and TheNewJefferson. You both have been amazing.


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